By the Dawn's Early Light
by 1st endeavor
Summary: For six years Charlie has experienced the daily horrors of Don's job. Join me now as the brothers come face to face with the dark side of the academic world.
1. Chapter 1

"By the Dawn's Early Light"

By 1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: All the characters and references to the show "NUMB3RS" are the property of Cheryl Heuton and Nick Falaci, CBS and the Scott Brothers. I am not making any profit from this and no infringement is intended. This disclaimer applies to all of the chapters in this story.

However, the story and original characters are mine.

Chapter 1: An Epiphany

The late afternoon sunlight filtering in through the tall windows of the room did little to brighten the disposition of the man sitting at the massive oak desk.

Professor Ludwig Schiller sighed heavily and leaned forward, bowing his head in despair as he absently rolled the small orange vial back and forth between the palms of his hands. The clacking sounds of the pills as they rattled against the sides of the bottle seemed to bounce eerily off of the empty walls of his office but he didn't seem to notice it as he tried to get his head around his present situation.

Just a few days ago these very walls had been decorated with his most prized possessions; his awards, certificates and diplomas…..his life's work.

Framed photographs of himself taken with dignitaries, faculty members and students that had once lined the walls now lay in open and sealed boxes on the floor; an unwelcome reminder that his journey at Princeton University had come to an end. He shivered at the thought of leaving and could take little comfort from the warm, sunny afternoon that was so prevalent on the other side of the glass. His thoughts grew darker as he studied the empty walls surrounding him and his lips curled upwards in a sneer as the vial began to roll faster and faster in his hands. Ludwig's frame of mind was anything but pleasant and of late his mood swings were becoming more and more erratic….and once he had actually resorted to violence.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration; the first signs of his illness had begun a year ago but he had denied them and had been able to keep them hidden from everyone around him, refusing to believe that he of all people could succumb to a mental disorder. Ludwig had never been a man to concern himself with such matters; this type of illness happened to other people but could not possibly happen to him.

He sighed audibly and pushed his chair away from the desk unfolding his long frame as he came to his feet and slowly shuffled around the room. The professor came to a stop in front of a large ornate bookshelf that was enclosed by decorative glass doors. It too stood bare; its contents packed away, just like all of his memories…and his life.

Ludwig stared at his faint reflection, feeling as if it represented his life, as if he was fading away to a mere reflection of what he used to be. He barely recognized the visage in the glass now; intelligence no longer lit up his hazel eyes….instead they seemed to light up from some strange inner light….was it madness he wondered? Could you really tell if someone was insane from the look in their eyes?

He leaned closer and noted that the shadows beneath his eyes were becoming darker, shadows brought on by lack of sleep, sleep that he could no longer count on because the voice in his head would inevitably begin its nightly discourse. He rubbed his forehead and grimaced as his fingers touched his thinning hairline and snorted in disgust; soon the only hair that he would have left would be his gray and brown busy eyebrows. The dark round frame of his glasses only seemed to heighten his light complexion, giving him the appearance of being a frail man but that was only an illusion.

Many of the Professors there ignored their body's needs for exercise but not him; he was a broad, muscular man and he had been taught that to have a strong mind one had to have a strong body as well. He turned sideways and studied the rest of his reflection, noting with some satisfaction that he was still physically fit even at the age of sixty-two; his daily work outs at the pool had kept his muscles strong allowing him to move around with the agility of a much younger man.

"_But how long will that last if I take these?"_ he mused darkly, glancing downward at the vial in his hand. He hated taking the pills, they made him tired and he couldn't think…..couldn't do his work.

Ludwig closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead; swaying slightly on his feet. He braced his hand against the cabinet to keep from falling and looked around when the door to his office suddenly opened. Schiller's half smile faded away as his eyes narrowed suspiciously and he watched in silence as a man crossed the threshold of his doorway.

Dr. Peter Edwards, head of Princeton University's Mathematics Department, strode purposely forward until he was standing directly in front of Professor Schiller.

"I'm sorry Ludwig but the Trustees agree that it would be not only in your best interest but those of the university's as well for you to take an early retirement." He raised a hand to forestall Schiller's argument. "Take some time to pull yourself together and once you have recovered, perhaps we can find something part time for you to do."

"I told you before." Ludwig hissed angrily. "There is nothing wrong with me!"

Edwards stared at him in total disbelief. "You can't be serious. How can you say that Ludwig?" he asked incredulously. "You struck a student! You physically beat Mr. Carpenter because he disagreed with one of your theories!"

Schiller's eyes flashed angrily. "The boy lacks discipline!"

"He does not and even if it were true, Princeton does not hold with corporal punishment and you know that."

"I did what I thought was necessary!"

"Perhaps you should have given it a little more thought." Edwards said mildly as he pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. "You are very lucky that we were able to persuade the boy's parents from having you arrested for assault and from suing the university. Your doctor's diagnosis and your retirement from Princeton was the only way that we could get them to drop the charges against you." He shook his handkerchief at Ludwig. "You should have told us about your condition as soon as you knew about it instead of hiding from us for a year. We could have prevented this atrocity from ever happening."

"Their diagnosis was wrong…they made a mistake!" Schiller retorted angrily.

"Hmm….yes….well…uh…I think that we shall abide by their assessment." He cleared his throat and tilted his head sideways; giving him a sympathetic look. "Ludwig, I know how hard this must be for you to accept but you know as well as I do that studies have shown that people who are predisposed to higher abstract thinking are quite vulnerable to mental illness."

Ludwig's nostrils flared, and then he gave a snort of disgust. "That happens to other people, not to me."

Professor Edwards raised his hands in a pleading gesture; trying another tactic to get through to the man. "Look at Nash, he walked these halls for many years after taking his medication and he was able to get his life back together. You can too; you just need a little time to work things out, that's all. When you are well, you can come back and we will find a position for you, not this one of course, but there will always be a place for you here at Princeton."

"Haven't we had this conversation before?" Ludwig snapped angrily and made a grab for the man's shoulder…only to have his hand pass through Edward's body. Schiller gasped; his hand covering his mouth in surprise as the professor seemed to dissipate into thin air. Horror filled his eyes as he slowly turned in a circle, scanning the room for Edwards.

"He's not really here." Ludwig whispered in disbelief and began to tremble. "Maybe I do need these pills after all." He muttered and glanced at the orange vial that was still clutched tightly in his fist.

"Today….today is Wednesday" He said aloud. "Edwards was here two weeks ago….on…on a Monday….not today."

His shoulders drooped as he turned away from his reflection and glanced around the room; his gaze drifting from empty bookshelves to cartons that were neatly stacked along the walls while others were scattered haphazardly across the polished wooden floor.

This office had been his home for more years than he could remember; it didn't feel right to have to leave it now….he loved it here…this was his sanctuary. Schiller's head jerked upward suddenly, his jaw stubbornly jutting forward.

"Damn it! I won't go…you can't make me leave!" He cried out in anguish, daring anyone to contradict him but the room remained silent and soon after his shoulders sagged again; his chin dropping to his chest in defeat. The decision had been made by a higher power and he really didn't have any choice in the matter.

"It just isn't fair." He whispered brokenly to the empty room. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket he wiped at the moisture collecting at the corners of his eyes and blew his nose. With a sniff he tucked it back into his pocket and shuffled toward a table littered with open and sealed cartons of various sizes. Ludwig pushed aside a flap on an open carton and gazed at its contents.

This particular box contained many of his published papers, a couple of framed photographs and a number of awards that he had earned during the course of a distinguished career. The Professor picked up one of the pictures and smiled fondly at the visage. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the students that were pictured there; their names came easily to his mind and he said their names aloud as he remembered them.

That year he had taught an exceptional class and many of them had left Princeton to make some remarkable discoveries. His eyes lingered on one student in particular; a child prodigy that had arrived at the university at the young age of thirteen. The boy had the ability to rival Einstein himself and he could still remember the joy and excitement that he had felt at having the opportunity to teach the young genius.

Despair once again overtook him and his arm fell listlessly to his side and with the picture still in his hand he stumbled back to his desk and sat down heavily. He slouched back in his chair and stared at the photograph but his eyes no longer saw it as his thoughts began to wander to the deeper recesses of his mind.

If he came back as Edwards had suggested would he join John Nash and become another "Phantom of Fine Hall"? Would he become just another shadowy figure that wandered the halls in the middle of the night and scribbled arcane equations on the blackboards? His vision blurred and a sob escaped his lips as tears ran unchecked down his cheeks; he didn't want that life but in his heart he knew that he couldn't prevent it from coming to pass.

Day changed into night and sunbeams became moonbeams but still the old man remained motionless. Finally, just before dawn he began to stir and in a dream-like state he rose silently from his chair. It struck him suddenly, how quiet the school was at this hour; it was a sacrilege to him for his revered house of learning to be so still.

The window drew him and he marveled at how beautiful his beloved campus was in the moonlight.

Fine Hall, home of the Department of Mathematics, was the tallest building on campus, and his office on the seventh floor afforded him a most impressive view. He could see a corner of Lake Carnegie, located at the southern end of the campus, glistening like a silver ribbon in the darkness. His gaze drifted over the shadow encased structures and in the glow of the full moon he easily recognized each one of them by their shapes. Nassau Hall, the oldest building on campus, had been built in Victorian Gothic style but after the nineteenth century the university had adopted a consistent Collegiate Gothic style but distinguishing between the shapes was not a problem for him. Ludwig knew the campus like the back of his hand; every piece of stone and hallowed hall was a part of him…..this was his life and now he was being forced to leave it behind.

The Professor glanced down in surprise, suddenly realizing that he was still holding the photograph in his hand and his thoughts drifted back to his students. His heart skipped a beat when it occurred to him how much he was going to miss them; not only from the teaching aspects but also the social ones as well. He truly enjoyed the late-night concerts given by the a cappella undergraduate groups, the annual street fairs, the Cane Spree and all of the other traditional activities associated with the university. His lips curved in a slight smile and he spoke softly as one of the traditional chants came to mind.

"_In Princeton Town the Youth abound, and do young Tigers make. Women return as Gilded Lilies, the men as Frosted Flakes."_

"Oh…to be young again," he whispered wistfully, "young and full of ideas." But that could never be: his chance had disappeared with time.

Ludwig sagged dejectedly against the window; despair once again consuming him. He should have done so much more with his life than just teach; why…he could have made important discoveries that might have changed the world.

His head swiveled around as he followed a shaft of moonlight to another open box containing more of his concepts as well as an incomplete theorem on axiomatic systems.

"Is that all I will be remembered for?" He mused sadly. "A bunch of papers and ideas or worse…." His thoughts turned dark as he stared at the box. "What if all they remember are these last few months? The fact that the student involved had deserved the punishment was irrelevant now….the academic community would only remember this incident as an inappropriate action on his part and his reputation would be ruined.

That idea struck fear into his heart and in a panic he began to pace frantically around the room, absently pulling at his hair as he wove his way in and around the scattered boxes; nearly tripping over an open carton before he managed to grab a larger one to help him regain his balance. A sharp pain seemed to pierce his skull and he doubled over with an audible gasp as the picture clattered against the top of the carton. He pressed his hands against the sides of his head and pushed, squeezing hard in an attempt to force it away. The pain was imaginary, according to his doctor, but Ludwig knew better; it would always strike…just before the voice began to speak to him. Moments later the pain subsided and as he slowly straightened up he steadied himself against the carton. His hand brushed against the photograph and white-knuckled fingers closed around it as he lifted it higher to view. Ludwig's gaze drifted from student to student and he stared solemnly at them. Random thoughts darted out of the darkness of his mind as he focused on his former class.

"Where are they now? Had they accomplished their desires or had they become distracted along the way….just like him?

He glanced at the windows and stumbled blindly toward them like a puppet being manipulated by some unseen force; compelled with no will of his own to move forward. Ludwig raised his head and stared through the glass panes of the window; his gaze drifting outward, once again encompassing his beloved campus.

Schiller focused on the distant chapel; head tilting sideways as he studied the church steeple. The light colored limestone reflected the bright moonlight making it possible to see every detail of the steeple and as he watched it began to shine even brighter. His eyes widened in awe as it suddenly lit up with a luminous white light and he had to cover his eyes to protect them from the pulsating light that was emanating from its tip.

A chime began to play, resonating eerily around the darkened room and he absently pulled his pocket watch from the pocket of his vest. With a trembling hand he opened the case and checked the time; the fifth chime would mark exactly five a.m. and dawn's arrival.

Ludwig glanced back at the steeple and abruptly stiffened up, his hazel eyes shining brightly as if they were also glowing with that distant white light. It came to him suddenly….in an epiphany….the solution to his problem and the way to save his career.

It was as if the Divine One himself had reached out to whisper in his ear. A profound look of reverence crossed his features as he continued to gaze at the glowing steeple. Of course…..it had been HIS voice that he had been hearing all along….pointing him in the right direction.

"Yes, yes." He whispered excitedly. "I can redeem myself, I see that now. I can prove to everyone that I am not going crazy….that I am just answering a higher calling."

Ludwig relaxed with the knowledge that he wasn't sick after all, that the Divine One had been telling him what to do all along. A genuine smile lit up his face this time as he lowered his gaze to the class photograph; they still needed him and he would be there for them.

He was moving…yes…but now he had a higher purpose to fulfill.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

A/N: I appreciate your reviews and alerts. Thank you.

Spoilers: References to "Arrow of Time"

Chapter 2:

_Four months later_

Monday, 7:30 a.m.

As Don pulled into the driveway of the Craftsman he felt a twinge of disappointment. He had fully expected to see his brother's Prius parked out front but the only car in view belonged to his father. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his Dad it was just that he needed some one-on- one time with Charlie and although a late night conversation with Alan the previous evening had led him to believe that his brother would still be at home this morning, the absence of his car was proving otherwise.

With a sigh Don turned off the ignition and clamored out of the SUV pausing just long enough to arch his back and stretch a few sore muscles that he had acquired during a recent ski trip. He strode forward but veered to the right at the front steps to take a small path that led to the garage. Of course, you couldn't really call it a garage anymore; it had been transformed into a guest house or as Charlie liked to call it, his Dad's "man cave".

During the six month period that Charlie and Amita had been in England the old garage had been converted into a very comfortable home for Alan, complete with a nice sized bedroom a modern bath with a walk-in shower and a medium-sized kitchen with a small breakfast nook. But Alan's pride and joy was a family room large enough to hold a 60 inch plasma TV, a small couch and two well-stuffed recliners. A large bay window had been installed in the family room providing Alan with a panoramic view of the picturesque back yard while his kitchen and bedroom windows faced the driveway. They had kept the structure attached to the main house and used the connecting room as a shared laundry room with entrances from both houses.

Don grinned as he approached the front door; you really couldn't tell that the old building had once been a garage and more importantly, Alan loved it, it kept him close to his family and still gave him the freedom of living on his own. Charlie and Amita insisted that the main house was still Alan's home as well and in the month since they had returned from Cambridge the three of them had settled into a very happy and comfortable living arrangement. Don still visited on a regular basis and he never knew which house he was going to find them in; one day Charlie would be sitting with Alan in his house grading papers while his Dad worked a Sudoku puzzle and the next day they would be in the family room of the Craftsman doing exactly the same thing. He had come to realize that what Charlie had said the night before he left for England was true; the more things changed, the more they stayed the same, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Dad?" he called out as he closed the front door behind him.

A muffled "In the kitchen Donnie" answered his question and he paused just long enough to drape his suit jacket over one of the chairs before pushing open the kitchen door.

"Hey Dad."

Alan turned around and smiled broadly at his oldest son. "Just in time," he said shoving two plates of pancakes at him, "take these and I'll bring the coffee."

"Ah….sure." He said, turning sideways to push the door open with his shoulder. Alan followed closely behind him and soon they were both enjoying a hearty breakfast.

"I thought Charlie was going to be here." Don commented while pouring more syrup over his pancakes.

Alan had just taken a sip of coffee and had to swallow before he was able to answer. "He was but late last night he got a call from a fellow math professor who had to go out of town for a family emergency and he asked Charlie to cover his classes for him this week." He peered at him over his coffee cup and added. "If you're trying to find him to work on a case you may have trouble catching him between classes."

Don paused with his fork halfway to his mouth; a guilty expression crossing his features. "I don't always come over to see him just because I have a case Dad."

This time it was Alan's fork that hovered in mid air as he peered over the rim of his glasses at his son. "I didn't say that you did. What's up?"

Don's voice took on a defensive tone. "Nothing, it's just that I haven't seen him very much since the Henderson case, that's all."

"That's not surprising since you and Robin took that little impromptu vacation right after the man was arrested." He set his fork down and leaned forward. "So what's really going on?"

"Nothing." Don repeated again, deliberately taking a large bite of pancakes. In truth he was hoping to mend the rift that had grown between the brothers during the case but he wasn't ready to discuss it with his father.

"Very well." Alan harrumphed before taking another sip of coffee. "I'll let it go until you're ready to talk about it. In the meantime why don't you tell me about your trip? How was Tahoe?"

Don swallowed and took a sip of his own coffee. "The slopes were just perfect and Robin is a great skier. They have some new trails Dad, you'd enjoy them too." He answered eagerly, relieved to change the subject.

"The resorts up there always take good care of their trails. Where did you and Robin stay?"

Don relaxed and stretched out his legs. "Alpine Meadows."

"Alpine Meadows." Alan smiled sadly. "Now there is a place that I haven't visited in years. Your mother and I always liked that one too."

Don tilted his head in dismay noting his father's sudden melancholy. "I'm sorry Dad, I….I didn't mean to bring up old memories."

"Don't be sorry." Alan said quickly, pretending to adjust his glasses as he superetiously wiped at a stray tear. "Just because your mother is no longer with us doesn't mean that we stop thinking about her. The memories of the things that we did together will always keep her close to us so don't ever be sorry about that. We had some good times….joyful memories that we shouldn't forget."

Don smiled fondly at his father; he really was the wisest man that he had ever known. "We took a side trip to Vegas on the way back and took in a few shows." He said, hoping to lighten Alan's mood a little.

"Well, I won't ask you how much you won because I'm sure I would have heard about that already." Alan retorted with a grin.

"We didn't really spend a lot of time at the casinos. " Don mumbled and lifted his coffee cup.

"Oh." Alan said with a chuckle, watching the color rise in his son's cheeks.

Don grinned at the bemused look on Alan's face and shook his head softly; it never ceased to amaze him that his father could still make him feel like he was sixteen years old and just coming home from his first date. He cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"Don't you have to work today Dad?"

"No." Alan replied with a knowing smile, well aware of Don's tactics. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I took a vacation day so that Art and I could try out that new golf course in Ventura. You know the one I mean? The Lost Canyon Golf Course?"

"Matt golfed there a few weeks ago; he said the sixteenth hole is really a tough one." Don answered with a nod of his head.

The agent's phone rang and he gave his father an apologetic look as he pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open.

"Eppes…yeah…hold on." He reached over and pulled a small notebook and pen from his jacket pocket. "Go ahead." Don said and proceeded to write an address on the paper. "Got it. Yeah, I'm on my way." He ended the call and clipped the phone to his belt; as he stood up he started to pick up his plate and cup. "Sorry Dad, I gotta go. Thanks for the breakfast."

Alan waved his hand dismissively at the dishes. "I'll take care of that Donnie. You just be careful out there." He added putting an emphasis on the word careful; the truth was his son's job terrified him, even more so since Don had barely survived an attack the year before and he wasn't sure if he could handle another close call like that one.

With a quick nod of his head Don grabbed his jacket and strode across the room "Hey, " he said, looking over his shoulder as he opened the door. "Don't forget what I said about the sixteenth hole."

"I'll take it under advisement." Alan replied with a grin and added. "I still want to hear about Vegas."

Don had already put on his sunglasses but he pulled them down and peered over the top of them as he spoke. "No problem just let me know when the steaks are ready and I'll give you the full story."

"Deal." Alan called out as Don hurried out the door. His gaze dropped to the table and after a glance at his watch he began to quickly gather up the dishes.

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

8:15 a.m. CalSci

Charlie shifted his weight around and propped one foot up on the edge of the coffee table so that he could rest the clipboard on his knee; the leather couch was extremely comfortable and he would often sit there as he worked. The young professor had felt a little intimidated when he had first moved in to the prestigious office but it hadn't taken him very long to become adjusted to it and now he felt completely at home.

He had arranged for Larry to use his office while he was away but the physicist had moved to a much smaller room upon his return; a fact that his friend had complained about on more than one occasion.

Charlie rubbed his upper lip thoughtfully as he compared his own schedule with that of Professor Hartwell's. He was relieved to discover that he had no conflicting classes and that Hartwell's classes also managed to fall between two seminars and his "Class for non-mathematicians" that were also scheduled for the week.

The young professor sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the soft leather couch; he was going to have to put in some long hours this week but he could do it. His eyes popped opened suddenly at the sound of his door opening and he twisted around to see who had just walked in without knocking. Charlie's face broke into a smile as Amita came into the room juggling two cups of coffee and her bag. The young woman nudged the door closed with the heel of her shoe and dropped her bag on the table next to the sofa. She sat down on the couch and slid closer to him and held out one of the Styrofoam cups.

Amita arched an eyebrow and asked teasingly. "Professor Eppes wasn't sleeping was he?"

"Just resting my eyes." He replied; taking the cup with one hand and pulling her close with the other. "Thanks." He said softly when their lips parted a few moments later.

Her eyes lit up mischievously. "For the kiss or the coffee?"

"Both." He chuckled; snatching another kiss before she was able to pull back from his embrace.

Amita picked up the clipboard and frowned as she studied his schedule. "You're not going to get much rest this week; maybe you should try to re-schedule one of these seminars."

Charlie shook his head. "Don't worry, I can handle it. All of my work is finished for them so it's just a matter of doing the presentations and this is the first non-math class I've had a chance to give since we got back so I don't want to cancel it; a lot of people really look forward to it."

"Is there anything that I can help you with?"

"Thanks for asking but I've got it covered. Besides, you've only got three days to get your Combinatorics presentation ready." He set his cup down and pulled her into his arms. "I'm going to miss you while you're away." He held her at arm's length and searched her dark eyes. "I'm not sure that I can survive for two days without you around."

"I'm going to miss you too." She whispered, embracing him tightly. "It's a short flight to San Francisco; you could join me on Saturday. Berkeley is hosting a dinner party for the key speakers on Saturday night, I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I brought a guest to the party." She smiled suddenly and added. "Especially if that guest turned out to be Dr. Charles Edward Eppes."

"No." Charlie said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "This is your show, not mine. You should be the center of attention, not me."

"That's a sweet thing to say Charlie." She replied with a kiss. "Do you realize that this will be the first time that we have been apart since we were married?"

"I know." He said thickly and pulled back. "But we don't have to deal with that until Thursday and you'll only be gone for a couple of days."

"Right." She said, forcing a smile.

"I've only got fifteen minutes before my first class. " Charlie said with a glance at his watch. "I better get my things together." He stood up and gathered his papers and carried them over to his desk.

"Charlie have you had a chance to talk with Don since he and Robin returned?" Amita asked as she followed him to the desk. Something had happened between the brother's and Charlie had refused to talk about it so she had hoped that when Don returned they would work out their issues.

"Ah….no." He answered with a vigorous shake of his head and a brief smile as he continued to shove papers into his bag.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked in a concerned voice.

Charlie shrugged and ducked his head; when he met her eyes again she was surprised by the hurt and loss reflected in them. Amita hurried around the desk and grabbed his hand.

"Charlie please….tell me what's wrong."

"It's just that I thought we were good…you know? When we came back everything just seemed to fall into place and he actually started treating me more like one of the team, a partner just like the rest of the guys." He sat down on the edge of his desk and ducked his head. "But then the Henderson case came along and it was like the Buck Winters thing all over again. He avoided me, wouldn't answer my calls and pushed me away when I did see him, unless I had information on the case he wouldn't even talk to me. He didn't even tell me that Henderson had a personal vendetta against him until I confronted him with the fact that my analysis pointed out that the man was coming after him. I found out later that Don had even ordered the rest of the team not to let me in on that part of the investigation." He lifted his hands up in a helpless motion. "That was valuable data that was missing from my analysis Amita. Had I known we might have been able to catch the man sooner."

Amita ran a comforting hand across his shoulders. "I'm sure that Don had his reasons for doing that Charlie. Didn't he explain it later?"

"I didn't get a chance to talk to him; he and Robin took off right after the case was closed. Dad said they came back last night but I haven't talked to him yet. Sometimes I just get the feeling that I'm just another resource to be used just so he can get the job done."

"Oh, Charlie." She said cupping his face in her hands. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

He searched her eyes and shook his head softly. "I don't know…lately I've been thinking that maybe we should just stick to teaching. You have to admit that while we were at Cambridge it was nice to immerse ourselves in the ivory towers of academia."

She grinned and shook her head. "It was nice but don't forget we did consult on those two cases for Scotland Yard."

Charlie returned her grin, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah, that was sort of cool." He gave an exaggerated sigh. "I guess we're just two hopeless crime scene junkies, huh?"

Amita giggled. "You better make that three, Larry's just as hooked as we are." Her eyes widened as she glanced at her watch. "I've got to get going and so do you." She gave him a brief kiss and then hurriedly gathered up her things.

Charlie gave his desk a quick glance then grabbed his own bag and headed for the door but stopped by the table just long enough to pick up his coffee cup.

They left the office at a run and were soon lost in the throng of students and Professors as everyone rushed to their classes to begin another routine day at CalSci.

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

9:oo a.m.

The morning sun normally brought a feeling of warmth with it but the inhabitants of Castlello Place, a small residential community in suburban Los Angeles, felt only chills as they watched the police enter the home of their neighbor. Located at the end of a cul de sac the sprawling ranch style home was easily the largest house on the block but today that wasn't the reason it was drawing everyone's attention.

Residents were milling together in groups and speaking in hushed tones as they watched yet another vehicle join the congregation of LAPD patrol cars and unmarked police vehicles. Their conversations suddenly increased in volume when the driver exited the black SUV wearing a jacket emblazoned with the letters "FBI". Stunned by the latest arrival all heads swiveled in the direction of the agent and followed his movements as he ducked under the yellow crime tape and hurried across the threshold of the open doorway.

Just inside the foyer Don removed his glasses and scanned the multitude of blue uniforms that were wandering through the room; it didn't take him long to find a familiar face but he had to hurry to catch up to the man as he moved through the house.

"Hey Fred." Don called out as he caught up to the officer.

Sgt. Frederick Doyle, a fifteen year veteran of the Los Angeles Police Department turned when he heard his name but was surprised to discover who the caller was. "Agent Eppes? I didn't expect to see you right away; figured one of your team would be here first." He paused for a moment as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Speaking of your team, I heard that David Sinclair is back in L.A."

"You heard right." Don answered with a slight smile. "David is back on the team and to answer your first question I was closest to the neighborhood so show me what you've got."

"This way." Fred said with a wave of his hand and started forward once again. "We found the victim's body in her office…..in the back of the house. The room looks like it's some kind of office and studio workshop combination."

As they entered the room Don paused to take a few minutes to look over the scene. The body of a young woman was lying on the floor beside a desk at the back of the room. An opened laptop sat in the middle of the desk surrounded by papers and books and there were more papers and some magazines scattered about the floor. Two blank whiteboards stood behind the desk but if you looked closely you could see a stray number or letter amid the smear of ink where someone had hastily erased them.

Don moved further into the room and carefully sidestepped the pool of blood around the woman's head as he went to one knee beside of the body.

"Who was she?" He asked softly.

"Dr. Alicia Brogan." Fred replied stepping to the other side of the body.

Don silently studied the victim; she was lying on her side, arms bound behind her back by a piece of rope. She was barefoot and dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of loose jogging shorts; a lock of her shoulder length brown hair had fallen over her face. He pulled a pair of plastic gloves from his pocket and slipped them on so he could push her hair aside momentarily to get a good look at her face. With a sigh he let her hair fall back in place and studied the rest of her body; his brow furrowed in puzzlement when his eyes settled on her legs; they were striped with horizontal dark bruises from her ankles up to her shorts.

"What do you make of these?" he asked without looking up.

Fred tucked his fingers in his belt and shook his head. "It looks to me like she was beaten with something but we haven't found anything here that would make those type of marks on a person. Whoever did this gave her a beating first and then finished her off with a single gunshot to the back of the head. Of course, the coroner might find something else."

The agent suppressed a sigh, he should be used to this by now, but the innocent victims still got to him. The untimely deaths of gang-bangers, drug dealers and criminals he could process without a blink of an eye but deaths of the people that he had sworn to protect always found a way through his armor. Still, it was his job, so he shoved his feelings aside and forced himself to become "detached"; that was the word his brother had once used to describe the agent's way of dealing with this aspect of his job.

"Murder may not have been the motive...she might have stumbled into a burglary." Don muttered as he gazed around the room. "Why did you call us?" he asked as he rose to his feet.

"The victim worked for the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena." The officer replied.

"Just because she worked for JPL doesn't automatically make this an FBI case. What type of work did she do?" Don still wasn't convinced that her murder warranted FBI involvement.

Fred consulted his notes again. "She was an Orbit and Trajectory Analyst but we called you after speaking with her boyfriend. Dr. Jenson Ackerman, he also works at JPL. According to him Dr. Brogan was currently doing some consulting work for the Dept of Defense."

"D.O.D huh?" Don said as he turned and scanned the people in the room. "Is Ackerman here?"

"No sir." The officer shook his head. "He's in Albuquerque doing research for NASA at the White Sands Missile Range. He sounded pretty broken up about it and is catching the first flight back."

"Okay Fred, clear everybody out. We'll take it from here." Don said briskly as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket; it looked like this was an FBI case after all.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

"By the Dawn's Early Light"

A/N: I truly appreciate your reviews. Thank you.

Chapter 3:

Monday 10:00 a.m.

Ludwig covered his mouth to stifle a yawn but it was to no avail; it appeared that even the strong coffee of the Bissell House, a Victorian style bed and breakfast inn located in South Pasadena was no match for his lack of sleep. At least he had managed to hide the yawn from the other patrons on the patio, or so he thought.

"Would you like some more coffee Professor?"

Startled, he twisted around in his seat to glance up at the woman standing slightly behind his chair.

Jennifer McKay, owner and innkeeper of Bissell House, enjoyed meeting her patrons personally and at the moment she was holding a coffee decanter over his half empty cup, waiting patiently for him to respond.

"Oh. Yes…ah... please do." He stammered, blushing slightly as she leaned over him to refill his cup. He found her very attractive and quite different from the women that he had known during his lifetime. Jennifer was in her mid-fifties and taller than most women; even in sandals she stood eye to eye with him. The pale blue sundress that adorned her slender frame seemed to match her eyes and her dark tan made her short ash blond hair appear even lighter than it was.

"You had a late night so I'm surprised to see you up so early." Jennifer said pleasantly as she re-filled his cup and stepped back from the table.

"I ran into one of my former students and the night just got away from us." Ludwig said, smiling up at her.

"You must have had a lot to talk about. Henry said that it was after six when you came in this morning. "

"Oh…. ah…we had a lot of catching up to do." He replied, suddenly nervous and then his brow wrinkled in puzzlement as he asked. "Henry?"

"Oh. Henry is my gardener." She blushed slightly and set the decanter down on the table deciding that an explanation was in order. "Not that I'm checking up on you, of course," Jennifer added hastily, "It's just that Henry likes to talk and feels that it's necessary to tell me everything that he sees."

"I understand." Ludwig replied with a slight smile. "We had a caretaker at Princeton much like your Henry." He shook his head fondly. "Oscar had the most annoying habit of interrupting me when I had the least amount of time to listen to the latest gossip." His eyes drifted toward the windows and the distant mountains. "I find it amazing that the seemingly unimportant details of my life are now of the utmost importance to me." He spoke wistfully as he added. "Why….there have been some mornings that I would swear that I could smell the chalk dust and hear the chalk clacking against the board." His hand seemed to move of its own accord; as if he were writing on a blackboard.

"Retirement can be difficult for a lot of people." Jennifer said sympathetically. "When you've been active for most of your life it takes a while to adjust to a new way of life."

"I'm not retired!" he snapped irritably. "I'm just on a sabbatical."

Surprised by the sudden bitterness in his tone Jennifer took a step back, dismayed by his sudden change in demeanor. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have assumed that you were retired. It's just…ah…never mind. If you'll excuse me I should see to the other guests."

"No….don't go." Ludwig said, suddenly desperate for her to stay. "Please accept my apology for that outburst. I….I don't know what came over me. I'm just a little tired, that's all." Before she could respond he quickly changed the subject with hopes of getting her to stay a little longer.

"You have a lovely inn." The professor said in an effort to ease the tension that had grown between them. "Have you owned it very long?"

"My great-great grandparents built this house in the 19th century and it's been in my family ever since." Jennifer's blue eyes lit up as she gazed around the room, letting her guard down a little with the subject change. "Many of the period pieces and floral chintz fabrics that decorate this inn belonged to them and I've tried to keep the rooms arranged in the way that they had them." Her eyes drifted down to meet his. "Of course, I've had to modernize a few things over the years but all in all, I think it still retains its Victorian era ambience."

"Absolutely, my dear, absolutely." Ludwig agreed heartily. "I particularly love the front porch; it's very conducive to one's thought processes, especially while admiring your beautiful gardens."

"Thank you." Jennifer replied warmly. She liked the professor but there was something furtive in his manner and that puzzled her. She had spoken with him on more than one occasion during his brief stay there and at times it seemed as if she were talking to someone else entirely. "It's a pity that you must leave today, there is so much to see and do in Los Angeles."

"Yes it is a pity." He said looking away as the voice in his head suddenly warned him to stop looking at her eyes; they were too distracting and he still had his work to complete. But he couldn't help himself and turned to face her once again.

"But I will make a reservation for this Friday and if things work out as I've planned then perhaps I will stay on for a few more days."

"That would be very nice Professor."

"Ah….Ludwig. Please call me Ludwig?" He asked tentatively; he liked this woman and the sane part of his mind longed for her friendship…. and for a life that had never existed for him.

"Please call me Jenny." The woman replied with a smile. "I'd better take this around before it gets cold." She picked up the decanter but she paused in mid-turn as her eyes lifted to the flat-screened TV hanging on the wall; it had been one of her concessions to modern conveniences. She had allowed one to be put up in the enclosed section of the patio but she still refused to put one in the formal dining room.

A news reporter was standing in front of a home in one of LA's more affluent neighborhoods and had moved as close to the yellow crime scene tape as the policemen would allow. He turned and pointed to the house and began to speak but no sound emitted from the TV, instead the closed caption printing scrolled across the bottom of the scene detailing the reporters words about the murder of a thirty-seven year old woman; her name and identity withheld pending notification of family. A coroner's van arrived and the cameraman followed the coroner as she entered the house.

"Oh that's so terrible!" Jennifer exclaimed, horrified by the story. "That poor woman."

"Yes…yes...such a pity." Ludwig hastily agreed, glancing sideways at the television set.

Immersed in the story Jennifer never saw his eyes suddenly turn cold or his affable manner change to one of contempt. Fueled once again by the voice in his head the new Ludwig shoved the old one aside.

**00000000000000000000**

David and Colby wove their way through the throng of onlookers standing around the news van and ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. They had scoured the small community and had interviewed the residents hoping to find some clue that would point them to the victim's murderer but so far they were coming up empty.

"I gotta say again man how good it is to have you back." Colby said coming to a stop just before the front door.

David shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. "It feels good to be back; it's almost like nothing has changed."

"Ah, but there are a lot of changes." Colby said grinning. "When Don gets bumped up to SAC in a few months you will become the supervisor of the violent crimes unit. I think that's pretty cool man."

"Yeah, but it's going to seem strange not having Don in the field as much." David reminded him.

"That's what he says now but how would you like to make a little wager on it because just between you and me, I don't see Don as an SAC who just sits around in his office twiddling his thumbs."

David grinned and shook his head. "Do I look like I was born yesterday Granger? That's one bet I'm not going to take."

Their moods turned somber as the coroner's van arrived and they stepped aside as the coroner, Dr. Tanya Ridenhour, swept past them followed by an assistant pushing an empty gurney. David and Colby fell silent and trailed behind them as they wove their way through the house.

Don nodded to the agents as they entered the room and took a few steps backwards to give Dr. Ridenhour room to begin her preliminary examination of the victim.

"Liz and Nikki are on their way to JPL." Sinclair said they joined him. "She worked in a pretty competitive field so maybe we'll find our answer there."

"Maybe." Don muttered as his gaze fell on the whiteboards. "Those boards were erased in a hurry; someone didn't want us to see what was on them."

Colby stuck his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker and shrugged. "Maybe she had made a significant discovery that someone else wanted credit for."

"Or found a flaw in someone else's work." Don mused out loud. "I've already left a voicemail for Charlie; maybe he can make something of the symbols that are left."

"You really think so Don?" Colby asked incredulously." I mean there's not much left to look at."

"True, but you know Charlie; he can see things that the rest of us can't so I'm hoping that he can pull another "rabbit out of his hat" on this one."

Colby remained skeptical but didn't say anything else.

"Were you able to find any wittnesses? Don asked.

"Nothing." David said with a shake of his head.

"We may have better luck though once we know the time of death." Colby added quietly.

Three heads swiveled in the direction of the coroner and they fell silent as they watched her perform her exam.

Dr. Ridenhour pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and inserted an instrument into the victim's liver. While she waited for a reading she checked over Alicia's body looking for wounds and bruises. A few minutes later she pulled the temperature gauge out of the dead woman's liver and checked her readings.

"What do you think Doc?" Don asked as the coroner rose to her feet. "Can you give us a T.O.D. yet?"

"I'd say that the time of death was roughly about five hours ago." She said removing her gloves and tossing them into a trash bag before catching his eye and stating the obvious. "Death was probably instantaneous from a gunshot to the back of the head."

"No surprise there." Don said grimly. "So T.O.D was at five a.m." he turned to David and Colby. "Now that you know the time of death, maybe you'll get lucky."

"Right." David said, nudging his partner as he turned to leave. "Let's go test that theory of yours."

**00000000000000000000**

12:15 p.m.

Despite his crazy schedule Charlie had managed to join Amita for lunch. One of their favorite spots was the outdoor café on campus and today they had been lucky enough to find a vacant table. All of the other tables were full and sounds of laughter and the rumble of voices echoed loudly all around them.

Amita had to lean close so that Charlie could hear what she was saying but he didn't mind; it was just another excuse for him to pull her closer.

"Charles you'll never guess who I ran into."

Embarrassed, Charlie and Amita reacted quickly and moved a little further apart before looking up.

Their friend and colleague was standing next to the table but he was not alone; beside of him stood a tall man wearing a tweed jacket with elbow patches and a cane hooked over his wrist.

The young professor rose quickly to his feet to greet the two men and waved them to the empty chairs across from theirs.

"Please join us." He said politely as he studied the man next to Larry. He looked vaguely familiar and yet he couldn't quite put a name to him.

Larry came to his rescue. "Charles you remember Professor Schiller don't you?"

Charlie's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Dr. Schiller….of course. Forgive me for not recognizing you right away but it's been a long time since I was a student."

"No apologies necessary Professor."Schiller responded graciously. "I truly did not expect you to remember me; after all it's been years since you graduated from Princeton." He leaned forward and waggled a finger at him. "But you certainly have changed; I can still visualize that thirteen year old boy that put the rest of his older classmates to shame."

That was not a memory that Charlie wanted to relive; many of his classmates had resented his presence there and had gone out of their way to make his stay as unpleasant as possible. But then, he thought uncomfortably as he looked at Schiller, the students hadn't been the only ones that had made his life miserable.

Sensing his friend's discomfort Larry quickly turned to Amita.

"Forgive me my dear, let me introduce you properly. Amita this is Professor Ludwig Schiller." He said with a wave of his hand at Ludwig. Larry shifted around in his chair and this time motioned toward Amita. "Dr. Schiller may I introduce Professor Amita Ramajuan-Eppes.

"Eppes?" Ludwig asked, his gaze drifting to Charlie's face. "As in ….?"

"My wife." Charlie beamed and met Amita's eyes. "Seven and a half months to the day." He entwined his hand with hers and turned back to face his old professor.

"Please accept my sincerest congratulations to you both." Ludwig offered graciously, returning Charlie's smile.

"So you were one of Charlie's Professor's?" Amita inquired politely.

"Yes indeed and I can't begin to tell you what a thrill it was for me to have the opportunity to teach him." Schiller's eyes darted toward Charlie and with a shake of his head added. "Of course he was only in my class for half of a semester but one never forgets working with a genius."

"He was only in your class for half a semester?" Amita asked with a puzzled frown. "I don't understand….why half a semester?"

Ludwig chuckled. "The trustees decided that young Mr. Eppes had already surpassed my class and needed further advancement."

Charlie arched an eyebrow at Larry but the physicist only responded with a slight shrug. That wasn't exactly how he remembered it but he was willing to let it go; if Schiller didn't bear him any ill will for what had actually happened then he wasn't going to bring it up. He would explain everything to Amita later when they were alone.

"Actually Charles managed to breeze through a lot of classes that way." Larry informed Amita. "After all he did graduate from Princeton in only three years."

"So….ah….Professor, what brings you to Calsci?" Charlie asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"I'm attending a seminar on "Real algebraic manifolds" at the University of Washington in Seattle tomorrow but I have a long lay over at LAX today and my flight doesn't leave until this evening."

"Nash's embedding theorem," Charlie interjected excitedly, "which shows that any abstract Riemannian manifold can be isometrically realized as a submanifold of Euclidean space."

"Yes…yes. It is an exciting theorem isn't it?" Ludwig agreed, smiling broadly.

"Nash was a brilliant mathematician." Amita said and then shook her head sadly. "It's such a tragedy that he suffered from mental illness."

Ludwig's smile faltered at the mention of Nash's affliction and he quickly glanced away as an uneasy feeling settled over him. He broke out in a sweat and his heart began to pound rapidly within his chest. Ludwig was suddenly fearful that his own secret was about to be revealed. After an agonizing moment he realized that the conversation was centered on Nash and not himself.

Charlie turned to Amita with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Did you know that at Princeton he was known as "The Phantom of Fine Hall"?"

Amita's brows drew together as she thought the question over. "I have read about that. Didn't he used to wander the halls late at night and scribble equations on the blackboards?"

"I actually saw a few of them while I was at Princeton." Charlie nodded in affirmation. "Not the man though, I wasn't allowed to stay up that late while I was there."

"I should think not Charles." Larry chortled. "I could just see you trying to get Margaret to agree to that one."

"Oh yes, your dear Mother." Ludwig said stiffly. "I remember now, a charming woman. How is she by the way?"

There was something in the tone of his voice that made Amita uncomfortable; it was as if his friendly demeanor had suddenly been replaced by something else. The professor's eyes now seemed to have a coldness to them and she glanced sideways at Charlie to see if he had noticed the change but her husband had ducked his head at Ludwig's question and when he raised it again Amita could see the sadness in his eyes; he and Margaret had been very close and she knew that he still missed her.

"My mother passed away a few years ago to Cancer." Charlie answered quietly and then gave Amita an appreciative smile when she squeezed his hand.

"My condolences dear boy, I'm so sorry to hear about your loss." Schiller replied courteously but his eyes belied the sentiment.

"It's lucky for us that you had a layover at LAX Ludwig." Larry said as an uncomfortable silence settled between them. "I was surprised when you called."

"Yes, well it was a fortunate opportunity for me otherwise I would not have had the time to visit with you today." Schiller answered, welcoming the change of conversation. "Imagine my surprise when I found out that my former student was also teaching at CalSci."

Ludwig's friendly manor had returned but Amita felt an underlying coldness to his words; as if he didn't really mean them and that he had only said them out of politeness and for some inexplicable reason she was suddenly afraid for Charlie.

"Ah…it's good to see you too Professor." Charlie lied and after a quick glance at his watch he was relieved to discover that he had to leave. "I'm sorry to have to run but I have a class in ten minutes and I really have to go." As he stood up to gather his things, Amita stood up as well, and he paused to give her a questioning look; he knew that she still had another thirty minutes before her next class.

"I'll walk along with you." She said quickly before he could question her and turned to Schiller. "It was nice to meet you Professor."

"And you as well my dear." He replied courteously.

"Professor Schiller, Larry." Charlie said with a nod of his head.

"Charles if you see Alan could you let him know that I may be a little late for our chess game tonight?"

"Sure thing Larry." Charlie called over his shoulder as he and Amita hurried away.

Larry was surprised to find Schiller on his phone when he turned back around to face him; he hadn't heard the phone ringing.

"Yes, thank you." Ludwig was saying as he checked the time on his pocket watch; he closed the timepiece with a loud snap and returned it to his pocket. "I'm sorry Larry. That was the airline and I must return to the airport; it appears that my layover has been reduced by a considerable amount of time."

"How unfortunate." Larry said; coming to his feet along with Ludwig. "I was hoping to reminisce about our days at Princeton."

"So was I, dear fellow. So was I." Ludwig replied regretfully as he turned to leave.

"Perhaps I could drive you the airport? "

Ludwig did a double take; he hadn't expected Fleinhardt to make that offer. In truth they had only been colleagues while at Princeton, and not very close ones at that. He'd only contacted the man as a means to get close to Eppes.

"I…ah…wouldn't want to make you late for class and besides I can just call a cab." He said dismissively and started to walk away.

"Ludwig I'm not teaching here now but CalSci was generous enough to let me stay and work on a private project. I have plenty of time to drive you to the airport."

Schiller forced a smile and turned back around; Fleinhardt was really starting to annoy him. "I appreciate the offer Larry but that really isn't necessary." He said firmly. "Perhaps I'll get a chance to stop by on my way back but now I really must be on my way." Without another word he strode away from the table and across the grounds toward the street.

Slightly bewildered by the man's behavior Larry watched him until he was out of sight. They had never been really close friends at Princeton, come to think of it Schiller hadn't had many friends, but he had been willing to extend all courtesies to the man.

Larry sat back down and picked at his salad as he pondered Ludwig's strange behavior. Perhaps the years had altered the man's memory because he had greeted Larry as if they had been best friends; more of a shock was how Ludwig had remembered Charlie's first year at Princeton. He scratched his beard in puzzlement and slowly began to eat his salad.

00000000000000000000

Ludwig glanced over his shoulder to make certain that Larry wasn't following him and hurried to the bus stop; it wouldn't do for the physicist to catch him in a lie as he waited for the bus. Thankfully, it wouldn't be a long wait; he could see the bus approaching in the distance. He should have been on the road by now but he hadn't been able to resist a quick check on Eppes and it was a good thing that he had too. The boy had truly gotten off course and needed his help to get back on track, if that were possible and if not he knew what he would have to do.

He stumbled forward suddenly but regained his balance quickly with the aid of his cane. Ludwig immediately turned around to see who had bumped into him and his angry glare fell upon two young men standing behind him; one of them was holding a skateboard in his arms.

The boy holding the skateboard popped the ear buds from his ears and looked up at the older man. "Ah….sorry man." He grinned apologetically. "I couldn't stop in time."

Ludwig's gaze was full of disdain as he took in the youth's appearance. His hair was spiked at the top and he was wearing a loose tee shirt with baggy shorts; the metal rings in his ears and eyebrows only seem to infuriate him even more.

Angrily he raised his cane and shook it at the boy. "You should be flogged!" He yelled. "Children have no discipline these days!"

"Hey man chill." A Hispanic man, who was also waiting for the bus spoke up in the boy's defense. "The kid apologized, what more do you want?"

Ludwig's eyes jerked in the direction of the man but before he could respond the bus drew up behind him; he gave the man a scathing look for his interference and turned around without uttering a sound as the door opened behind him.

He clambered aboard the bus gritting his teeth and clinching the cane so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Ludwig slid into a seat and scooted over to the window ignoring everyone around him, fuming in silence all the way to the bed and breakfast inn. The professor was calmer as he exited the bus and returned to his room to collect his remaining luggage; he had loaded most of the stuff in his car before he had gone to CalSci so that he could leave quickly.

He paused long enough to pull a small revolver from a zippered compartment in the bag and slid it into his jacket pocket. The photo of his students caught his eye and he noted with satisfaction that only three remained unmarked in that first row. It was too bad that he couldn't take care of Eppes while he was still in LA but the voice was guiding him and it told him that he had to follow the student's order in the picture. Ludwig had tried to tell the voice that there was a more efficient way to deal with his former students, after all he was a mathematician and it just wasn't logical for him to drive to Seattle and then back to LA again when he was already here. He had tried reasoning with it before, when he had driven from the east coast to the west and then back to the east again just so he could keep them in order but the voice refused to listen and demanded that he do it his way.

Ludwig sighed and pulled out onto the highway taking some consolation in the fact that the next two people in the photograph were living within a few hundred miles of each other.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

"By the Dawn's Early Light

_By 1st Endeavor_

Chapter 4:

"Monday 11:45 p.m.

"Charlie, what time did you say that Don and Robin are coming for dinner tomorrow?" Amita called out as she padded barefoot down the hallway toward the bedroom. She also thought of another question as well; one that involved a certain professor from Princeton.

"Charlie did you hear….?" she asked as she entered the room but stopped talking as she approached him; soft snores were emanating from his side of the bed. When she had left the room to brush her teeth and get ready for bed, Charlie had been sitting up with a couple of pillows placed strategically behind his back and the covers pulled up to his waist determined to get through the stack of note cards that he was reviewing for tomorrows seminar.

A soft smile touched her lips as she gazed at her husband; it would seem that even the indomitable Professor Eppes couldn't keep sleep at bay when it was needed. Charlie's eyes were closed and his head had lolled slightly to the side, his dark curls framing his face in a most alluring manner. The pillows that had once supported him now cradled his slouching form and the note cards lay scattered across his lap.

Amita fought back the urge to run her fingers through his curls, he was exhausted, she told herself as she carefully removed the note cards and placed them on the nightstand next to the bed. As her hand touched the light switch she paused; she really should get him to slide down a little further, after all, he could end up with a stiff neck if he stayed in that position all night. What kind of wife would she be if she let that happen?

She switched off the light and tossed her robe to the foot of the bed then crawled beneath the covers on her side of the bed, but she didn't stay there.

The moonlight filtering in through the closed curtains gave her plenty of light as she scooted over to his side of the bed. She leaned over him and pressed against his side as she put her arms under his shoulders in an attempt to slide his body downward. During this process her lips brushed against his; this was entirely accidental of course but for some reason, seemingly of their own accord, they seemed to linger there. Her fingers trailed through the hair on his chest and upward to his cheek where she gently traced his jaw line and finally lost themselves in his dark curls.

"_Oh…the hell with letting the man sleep_!" She thought as an overwhelming desire came over her and abandoning all thoughts of control Amita pressed his lips with a more lustful kiss.

Arms of steel suddenly encircled her and she quickly found herself lying on her back as Charlie awoke with an unbridled passion; flames of desire coursed through her body and she shivered with delight as his lips left hers and moved slowly down her neck.

"You were just pretending to be asleep." She teased him, breathless with desire.

"Not sleeping." He whispered huskily in her ear. "Just resting my eyes while I waited for you."

**00000000000000000000**

Tuesday, 2:30 p.m.

It was late afternoon before Don's team was ready to review the evidence that had been gathered and now it was time to piece together the life and death of Alicia Brogan.

Don leaned back against the desk; legs crossed at the ankles. He absently stirred his coffee as he studied the photograph of Dr. Brogan. She had been a woman that appeared to have everything going for her; a career that was on the rise and a budding relationship that apparently was going well. At least that was what her family and neighbors had told them but his team was just beginning their investigation so he would keep his opinion open on that aspect of the case.

"Let's put it together guys." He said with a glance around the room; reaching behind him he picked up a clip board and began to read aloud the preliminary points that their coroner had discovered about the body.

"According to Dr. Ridenhour time of death was exactly at five a.m. Death was instantaneous from a single gunshot to the back of the head and she removed a small caliber bullet from the back of the victim's skull. From the amount of GSR, Ridenhour puts the shooter's distance at roughly four to six inches."

"No surprise there." Colby muttered dryly.

Don nodded grimly and continued reading. "Prior to her death Dr. Brogan was beaten severely and there were welts and bruises ranging from the back of her mid-calves to the top of her shoulders. The victim was struck repeatedly with a solid object and from the intensity of some of the blows Ridenhour believes that the object used measured 12 mm in thickness and was roughly 90-120 cm long. Said object could be metal or wooden; she has no definite proof of either although she did find a small splinter of wood imbedded in the victim's tee shirt. The splinter was identified as a piece of "rattan wood" but she can't confirm that the weapon that made those marks was wooden and she hasn't been able to match those specific strike patterns with anything in our data base." He looked up and met their eyes. "We didn't find anything at the crime scene that would fit that description."

"Dr. Brogan could have sat in a rattan chair earlier in the day." David said. "That type of furniture is found all over L.A. although I don't remember seeing any at her house."

"Why don't you and Colby take another look just to be sure?" Don suggested, pausing to make a few notes on the paperwork.

"Right." David replied with a glance at his partner.

"Who has the ballistics report?" Don asked moving on to the next item.

"Ah, that would be me." Liz said; quickly tapping the keys on her laptop. "Check this out." She added as a picture of the bullet was projected onto the plasma screen.

"The cartridge used was a .38 Special +P, 9x19mm but the striation patterns on the bullet didn't match any others in our data base. This type of ammo is primarily used in Smith & Wesson's Centennial models, specifically Models 40, 442 and 642."

"So we're looking for a small revolver." Don said rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It would be easy to conceal, probably has a fully enclosed hammer which would make it a Double Action only model with a 1 7/8" barrel and it would be small enough to slip in a jacket pocket."

"That's not exactly the preferred weapon of a professional." David said incredulously.

Colby glanced at Don. "David's right about that. An S & W pocket pistol only has a five round cylinder and unless you can reload really fast you're out of luck in a firefight."

"What if the owner of the gun bought it for defensive purposes only?" Liz said; tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Don paced slowly in front of the desk before commenting. "That makes more sense but what made our shooter suddenly decide to use it to commit murder."

"Good luck figuring that one out." Nikki muttered sarcastically.

"I don't suppose we were lucky enough to find a few witnesses?" Don asked, ignoring Nikki's comment.

"I've got this one boss." Nikki said. "No one saw anything, the nearest neighbor heard the shot but thought it was a car backfiring. Apparently, her newspaper carrier's car has a habit of backfiring so she just assumed that was it."

"Who discovered the body?"

Nikki consulted her notes. "That was Betty Miller; she lives in the house directly across from the victim. Miller was backing out of her driveway around 8:00 a.m. and almost hit Brogan's dog. She said she knew something was wrong right away because Alicia never let her dog run loose. Mrs. Miller found the front door open when she took the dog home and of course, that's when she found the body."

"Who interviewed the boyfriend?"

"Liz and I took that one." David answered quietly.

"Do you think he had anything to do with it?" Don asked, looking from agent to agent.

David shared a look with Liz before responding. "I don't think so. Dr. Ackerman has an airtight alibi and was pretty broken up about her death." He scratched his beard and shook his head again. "I think he's clean."

"Liz?"

"I agree with David on this one. I don't think he was acting; he appeared pretty devastated to me."

Don nodded his head. "Okay. Any ideas?"

"It doesn't look like a robbery to me." David said. "The only place that was messed up was the office and they didn't even take her laptop."

Nikki rose and paced slowly in front of the large TV screen, studying the victim's picture before turning around to speak. "She was consulting for the D.O.D. Maybe what they wanted was information on the work she was doing for them and once they got it, they killed her."

"That might not be a bad scenario." Colby agreed, turning in his seat to meet Don's eye. "The welts and bruises would certainly lend credence to that theory."

Nikki grinned. "Thanks' Idaho. I get them once in a while."

"Yeah, once in a while." Colby smirked, prompting grins all around.

Don shook his head. "I talked with the Dept of Defense just a few minutes before we started and they said that she wasn't consulting on anything critical so we can rule out that idea which means that we could turn this case over to the LAPD."

"But you don't want to do that…..right?" David asked.

"Right." Don confirmed with a slight grin. "I think we'll give it another day or so before I make my decision on that. What else have we got?"

"There was no sign of a forced entry but we all know a pro would be able to get in and out without leaving any evidence." Colby said, tapping his pencil on the desk.

"We can't rule out the possibility that she might have known her killer and just let him in." David remarked, glancing up at the picture.

"She wouldn't just open the door to anyone."Liz tossed out. "Maybe she was having an affair with someone….I mean her boyfriend was away last night."

David shrugged his shoulders. "This may not have anything to do with a burglary after all and could turn out to be a simple case of a jealous lover."

"Maybe." Don muttered as he came to his feet. "There are still too many un-answered questions and what about the numbers that were left on the white boards?" he asked, nodding toward them with his chin. "Did she try to erase them or did our killer?" The agent turned and pointed at the stacks of magazines and papers that they had found on the victims floor. "And what about these things? Do they mean anything or were they just tossed around?"

"Brogan had published an article in each of them but they aren't current; some of them are at least ten years old." David said, sorting through some of the magazines on the table.

Don picked through some of the papers; his brow wrinkling in puzzlement. "Why just magazines that she had an article in?" He asked with a wave of his hand. "Why would she be looking at them now?" Don scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration then glanced at his watch. "And where is Charlie? I expected him to be here by now."

"I spoke to him earlier and he said he would try and come over this afternoon but if he couldn't make it he would send Larry or Amita." David said, with a glance at his own watch. "Ah, that was about four hours ago."

Don gaped at him surprise. "You actually talked to him? We've been playing phone tag; last night I got a voicemail from him saying that he would try to get over here today."

David shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "I barely caught him between classes"

"I'm not sure how an astrophysicist can be of assistance but I am here to offer my services should they be needed."

The agents had been so caught up in their discussion that no one had seen Larry enter the room and more than one of them shared a look of surprise.

"Hey Larry." Don said with a welcoming grin."Thanks for coming."

"Don." The professor greeted him with a smile. "When did you get back from Vegas?"

"Late Sunday night."

"You're looking more refreshed." Larry noted. "I take it that your visit was a good one?"

"Yeah, we had a great time." Don answered with a teasing air. "But you know the old saying, what happens in Vegas…..?"

"Stays in Vegas." The diminutive professor finished for him with a knowing look as laughter resonated around the room.

"Did Charlie come with you too?" Don asked, changing the subject and searching through the surrounding glass windows for any signs of his brother.

With a negative shake of his head the older man moved further into the office. "Charles sends his regrets but he was unable to get away so I have come in his stead."

"Well, thanks for coming Larry." Don said, turning quickly to point to the white boards before his friend could read the disappointment in his eyes. A feeling of loss had come over him and suddenly his imagined feeling that he and Charlie had reached an unbreakable barrier was almost overwhelming. He pushed his feelings aside, telling himself that they would work out their differences later on when he and Robin joined them for dinner. In an effort to control his emotions he strolled to the two white boards that had been taken from the crime scene. Most of the information had been erased and although he felt it was a long shot, he was hoping that Charlie would be able to fill in the missing pieces.

"We were hoping that he could tell us what the victim was working on. It could be a motive for her murder if it was something the killer didn't want us to find."

The professor scratched at his beard while he studied the fragments of numbers that were still visible on the boards.

Don shared a bemused look with his agents before turning back to his friend. "What do you think Larry?"

"I don't think even Charles can help you with this one." He waved his hand at the board. "Too much has been erased to even come up with a plausible conjecture."

Don wandered over to the plasma screen to stare at the victim's picture. "I was afraid that you might say that but we'll keep it on hand in case Charlie wants to look at it." He rubbed his chin and muttered. "There is something very familiar about this case but I just can't put my finger on it."

"Don, do you think this is a serial case?' Liz asked, sharing a puzzling look with the rest of the team.

Don rolled his shoulders. "I'm not sure…I'm just saying that it sounds familiar."

"We found some similarities with other cases but nothing that matched all of the aspects of this one." Colby said, rising to his feet to join Don at the screen.

"I'll get the data to Charles; perhaps he will be able to discover something." Larry said following Colby. "This is the victim?" He asked, tilting his head to the side as he stared at the picture. "There is a sense of familiarity about that young woman?"

Startled, Don's thoughts were pulled back when Larry spoke; he hadn't noticed that he had joined him at the plasma screen. Noting the puzzled expression on the professor's face he leaned closer. "Did you know Dr. Brogan?"

"Brogan?" Larry repeated the name thoughtfully while tapping a finger lightly against his lips."Alicia Brogan?"

"That's right." David said, coming around to stand beside of the professor. "Did you work with her at JPL?"

"No I haven't worked with her but I do remember her from Princeton. If I'm not mistaken she was in one of my astrophysics classes."

Nikki tapped a few computer keys then nodded in affirmation. "Yeah, that's what the records say. She graduated from Princeton in 1992."

"That's the same year that you graduated Don." Liz commented teasingly.

"Yeah, but you don't go to Princeton on a baseball scholarship." Don commented dryly.

"That young woman was in one of my senior classes." Larry said, ignoring the banter.

Don turned to face him as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Did Charlie know her?"

Larry scratched his temple. "They probably shared a few classes but I don't know that he knew her personally. His age difference coupled with your mother's presence severely limited any socializing between Charles and his fellow students."

"Yeah, no kidding." Don grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he remembered some of the letters that his Dad used to get from Charlie. In his mind's eye he could picture Alan handing him a letter as he shook his head and said_. "You'd think that Charlie would realize by_ _now that I'm not going to intervene with your mother's rules_." _He had shaken his finger at him_ _and added._ "_You should feel lucky that you don't have to abide by her 9:00 p.m. curfew rule_ _instead of my 12: 00 one." Don had eagerly agreed with him even though he was finding his Dad's curfew a bit too restraining for his social life at college_. Simple economics had kept him at home those first two years; the unexpected expense of having two sons in college at once had put quite a strain on his parent's finances.

"Wow, I never thought about that." Colby said with a chuckle. "College couldn't have been very much fun for Charlie."

"Yes, well, he says that his freshman year was definitely not one of his favorites." Larry responded as he continued to contemplate Brogan's picture.

A profound look of loss suddenly crossed his features. "This is a tragic loss to the scientific community. I can't help but wonder what marvelous discoveries she might have made….now we will never know."

00000000000000000000

3: 00 p.m Seattle, WA

It had just started to rain as Ludwig turned off the highway and pulled into the parking lot of the Cedarbrook Motel. He eyed the motel dismally and turned off the ignition; it was certainly not as inviting as the Bissell House had been and for a brief moment his vision clouded over and he could see Jenny's smiling blue eyes. A feeling of sadness suddenly enveloped him and he wished with all of his heart that he could undo the terrible things that he had done and begin a new life with her. His hand reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the vial of pills that he kept there; perhaps he should start taking them again, perhaps it would be better for everyone if he did so.

"Do you really want to go back there?" The voice in his head sneeringly asked. "It'll be worse this time; this time they will never let you out."

"No…no!" Ludwig answered, stammering in horror as he remembered the two months that he had been required to spend at the mental institution. "I….I hated it there."

"Then stop whining and get on with it!" The voice yelled harshly. "You know what you have to do to redeem yourself!"

Ludwig bowed his head in defeat and nodded meekly. Shoving the pills back into his pocket as he opened the car door; he quickly gathered his things and checked into the motel. Schiller sank wearily to the bed and glanced around the room; it was nicer than the one that he had stopped at during the night but that didn't really matter because he wasn't planning on staying there for very long.

He spied a small table and chair in the corner of the room and stood up; shrugging out of his wet jacket he draped it over the chair and began to set up his lap top. He needed to review Sean's work before he met with him that evening and he wanted to get started before the voice returned to berate him for slacking off.

Ludwig knew it was wrong, but he was really beginning to resent the voice telling him what to do.

TBC

A/N: I will be away next weekend but I will try and post Chapter 5 on Thursday before I leave.


	5. Chapter 5

"_By the Dawn's Early Light"_

_By 1__st__ Endeavor_

Spoilers: "Structural Corruption"

_A/N: "I truly appreciate your reviews."_

Chapter 5:

Tuesday 6:15 p.m.

"So…Larry, why do I have the impression that Charlie wasn't exactly thrilled to see Dr. Schiller again?" Amita asked as she pushed the swinging door of the kitchen open; she, Alan and Larry were busy setting the dining room table and preparing dinner for the family. Don and Robin were joining them as well and this dinner would mark the first time that all of them had been together since they returned from their skiing vacation.

"Who is Dr. Schiller?" Alan asked with a frown as he began to sort out the utensils.

Larry was busy putting the placemats on the table and paused with one in mid-air. "Dr Ludwig Schiller is a Math professor at Princeton University; he taught Charles in his freshman year."

"But only for half a semester." Amita said, bringing up the topic that she was most curious about. "Why, did Charlie have a problem with the class?"

"Charlie has never had a problem in a math class!" Alan exclaimed incredulously. "That's impossible…the problem must have been with the professor!"

"Very astute of you Alan, and as usual you are correct. Charles's difficulty was with Professor Schiller, not the work itself." Larry said. "Actually, it was more like a meteor crashing into a rising star….Schiller being the said "meteor."

Alan shared a bemused look with Amita before attempting to get Larry back on track; he crossed his arms and leveled his friend with a skeptical gaze. "Could you bring the explanation back to earth Larry?"

"Ah….yes…most certainly." Larry replied, blushing slightly." Ludwig had a reputation for being a stern task master and held his students to a ridiculously high level of standards and Charles even more so."

"That's absurd." Alan huffed, rising to his son's defense. "You don't get into Princeton if you're a slacker, that university already has higher standards than most and besides I refuse to believe that Charlie couldn't meet the man's expectations."

Larry patted his friend on the arm. "Calm down Alan. You're right, Charles had no problem with the curriculum and as a matter of fact he breezed through the work so quickly that Ludwig had no choice but to let him work ahead of his fellow classmates; Charles literally satisfied the course requirements in a third of the time."

Amita's brows drew together in puzzlement as she led the way back to the kitchen. "I don't understand Larry." She said with a glance over her shoulder as she opened the cupboard and started to remove the wine glasses. "If Charlie fulfilled his obligations then why did he have a problem with Schiller?"

Larry stepped up beside her and put the glasses on a tray and sighed heavily before answering. "Ludwig is a brilliant mathematician in his own right but his teaching methods can appear rather harsh to some people."

"If that is the case then why would a university like Princeton allow him to teach there?" Alan's voice was slightly muffled because he had opened the oven door and was bending over to baste the roast duck that he had prepared for the evening meal. Even though he had his own place they still shared most of their meals and would often take turns or work together preparing them.

"To an average eighteen year old Princeton student his methods weren't that harsh….ah….they were even considered to be a quirky part of his brilliance."

"But Charlie was only thirteen." Amita said softly as she lifted the tray of wine glasses.

"Ah, now we come to the crux of the matter." Fleinhart stated as he headed back toward the dining room with a hand full of drinking glasses. "Charles certainly had no problem with the academic course; as a matter of fact he seemed to stay a few steps ahead of his classmates, as well as Schiller himself. But the problem was Ludwig seemed to forget that Charles was only a boy, albeit a brilliant one, but still he was just a boy with a child's emotional and social skills."

"What did he do to Charlie?" Alan called out angrily, letting the oven door slam shut with a bang before following the other two back to the dining room.

"The man berated him constantly Alan. Charlie would give him 100 percent and Ludwig would demand 150 and if he thought that Charles hadn't fulfilled that expectation then he would demand that he spend extra time in his classroom ; making him late for his other classes, which in turn got him in trouble with his other Professors." Larry shook his head at the memory. "Charles was becoming a nervous wreck trying to meet Schiller's unreasonable expectations."

Dismayed by the thought of Charlie's experience Amita asked quietly. "What happened?"

Larry leaned forward and grinned. "Ludwig met his match, that's what happened."

"What do you mean?" Alan asked as he set a stack of salad bowls on the table.

"Ludwig came face to face with a super nova, a powerful unyielding force of nature that would not be swayed from its orbit." Larry exaggerated, thoroughly enjoying telling this part of his tale. "The savage power of a mother bear protecting her cub could not compare with the super nova that was Margaret Eppes when her son needed protection."

Alan laughed out loud and raised his chin proudly. "That's my Maggie."

"What did she do?" Amita asked, grinning in anticipation of his story.

"Margaret had met with every one of Charlie's Professors and she told me later that she hadn't liked Schiller from the beginning but his credentials were impressive so she had gone along with it. But when Charlie finally broke down and told her what was going on she didn't waste any time in dealing with the issue. "

"The first thing she would have done would have been to do a background check on Schiller." Alan said quietly. "Maggie was a damn fine lawyer and left nothing to chance."

"You're right about that Alan and it didn't take her very long to take action. She confronted Schiller and after a heated argument went straight to the Dean and the Board of Trustees demanding that Charles be removed from the man's class immediately and moved to a more advanced one that would meet his needs." Larry shook his head fondly. " She wisely made the issue about Charles's education citing that he had already surpassed Schiller's planned curriculum and that the Trustees would be holding Charlie back if they forced him to finish the rest of the semester in Ludwig's class. Margaret made all the right moves and kept her personal opinion of Schiller out of it so that it couldn't become an issue."

"I can't believe that she was able to do that." Amita said in awe, grinning from ear to ear.

Larry continued on with his story. "Margaret was armed with three things that the Dean and trustees had no defense against." The older professor said smugly as he pulled out a chair to sit down.

Dinner was forgotten as Alan and Amita quickly sat down too; thoroughly caught up in the story.

Alan grinned and prompted his friend to continue. "And those three things were…?"

Larry held up his hand and counted down with his fingers. "One," he said lowering one finger, "Margaret was confident and wasn't afraid to take on the University. She had researched her opponents well and had discovered what their weakest point was."

Two," he said lowering a second finger, "Charles was sought after by many of the top universities and every single one of them were just itching to get their hands on him; all Margaret had to do was send out a few letters of inquiry hinting that her son was reconsidering his decision to attend Princeton. Needless to say, she soon had new stack of letters offering scholarships from many of our most prestigious universities. Margaret waved this impressive mass of papers under their collective noses and in no uncertain terms informed them that if Princeton couldn't keep up with her child's mind then she would find another university that could."

Amita's mouth had dropped open in disbelief. "She really said that to them?"

Alan whistled through his teeth. "Wow. I can't imagine that they took her insult very well. What did they say to her?"

"Wow indeed." Larry chuckled. "A friend of mine happened to be one of the trustees and according to him the room became so silent that you could have heard the proverbial pin drop before the Dean and trustees hastily formed a circle to have a quick conference. When they finally returned to their seats Dean Winston cleared his throat and conceded to all of her demands without another argument."

"My friend said at first they were very angry but then they began to consider the possible ramifications of her pulling Charlie out and decided that it was in the best interest of the school to agree with her. As you are well aware Alan, they had heavily advertised the fact that Charlie had opted to attend Princeton and certainly didn't want the embarrassment of having him leave after only half a semester." He grinned broadly. "Especially since his reason for leaving wasn't because he couldn't do the work." Larry held up his hand and lowered finger number three. "So last but certainly not least, the Trustees of Princeton simply had no defense against the unbridled rage of a protective mother."

They all burst into laughter at the visual picture of Margaret Eppes bringing Princeton University's Dean and trustees to their knees.

Amita wiped a tear from her eye as the laughter subsided and turned to face Charlie's father. "You seemed surprised to hear about Schiller; didn't Margaret tell you what was going on?"

Alan peered at her over his glasses. "I remember her telling me that Charlie was having trouble with one of his professors but she didn't really go into any detail. I knew she was going to see the Dean about it but until now, I wasn't aware of the circumstances and a few weeks later she wrote that the problem had been resolved."

"I am so thankful that Margaret was there to look after Charles, not only to protect him from Schiller, but to give him someone to turn to for support." Larry said quietly. "He was so young and impressionable that we could be looking at another Schiller today instead of the endearing young man that we all know and love."

"Why do you say that Larry?" Alan asked with a frown.

"Schiller grew up in a scientific institution; that was his family. At an early age his world consisted strictly of equations and algorithms; his studies were pounded into his brain day and night much like the lowly foot soldier learning his drills. Back in those days very little thought was given to the emotional and social needs of a gifted child and quite often punishment was extremely harsh."

"That's terrible." Alan huffed. "A child should never have to live that way."

Larry nodded, agreeing sadly. "I believe that having a child in his classroom brought those memories back to Ludwig and since that was how he had been taught he set about teaching Charlie in the same harsh manner; by pushing any and all distractions away from him and having him work on nothing but his studies.

Alan frowned. "You really think that was what the man was trying to do?"

"Oh indeed." Larry replied emphatically. "I remember one time in the professor's lounge Ludwig was ranting about Margaret; he said her interference was keeping Charles from becoming a great mathematician and that someone needed to do something about it." He sighed deeply. "I'm afraid that he had developed quite a dislike for her."

Before Alan could say anything Amita's eyes grew dark and she sputtered angrily. "Who the hell did he think he was? He had no right to do that to Charlie!"

"He saw nothing wrong with this my dear and I'll tell you why." Larry said, pausing a moment to swallow. "Ludwig was the fourth child born to a poor immigrant family in Romania; his parents had a small farm but times were hard and they were having trouble making ends meet. Schiller's mathematical abilities began to surface when he was seven, and as word grew the family began to get visitors from the academic circles, testing his talents relentlessly until he was proven to be a prodigy. The family was visited by some representatives from one of the well-known European Scientific Institutes and they convinced his parents that Ludwig would only be able to reach his full potential if he was allowed to come with them and that staying with his family would only hold him back."

"Yeah…a couple of them tried that bit with us too." Alan interrupted, growling darkly. "Charlie was only five years old when they came to the house and tried to talk us into giving him to them. Just like that we were supposed to give them our son….. for his good they said."

"What did you do?" Amita's eyes widened as she whispered.

"Let me put it this way,"her father-in-law replied in a huff, "to this day, no one has ever made it to my front door as fast as those two people did."

This statement brought laughter all around as Amita and Larry envisioned a young Alan Eppes chasing the scientists to the door.

"Now that would have been a sight to see my friend." Larry said but his smile faded as he continued with his story.

"In Schiller's case however his parents did see the offer as an opportunity for their son as well as for themselves. The institute gave them a large monetary settlement that allowed Mr. Schiller to get back on his feet again."

"They bought him!" Amita exclaimed indignantly. "That's horrible."

"Well, the institute didn't exactly use that term my dear. I believe they called it a "donation"; one that the family could use to get back on their feet again and at the same time Ludwig would be given an opportunity to nurture his gift and have a chance for a better life. Years later Princeton offered him a scholarship and then a professorship which he eagerly accepted. Princeton has been his home ever since and over the years his exposure to the staff and students have greatly improved his social skills."

An expression of pity crossed Amita's features. "I don't know whether to hate him or feel sorry for him.

"Well I do." Alan replied with conviction. "I don't care what his childhood was like; he had no business treating my son that way."

"As I said before Alan I believe that Charles's young age triggered Ludwig's memory of his own troubled youth." The older professor shrugged his shoulders. "After Charlie was moved up to a sophomore class Ludwig appeared to return to normal."

Surprise flitted across Amita's face as she thought of something and turned eagerly to her friend. "But when Schiller greeted Charlie yesterday he acted like he was genuinely glad to see him."

"Oh, he was." Larry spoke up quickly. "He harbors no ill will toward him; quite the contrary in fact. He had nothing but praise for Charles and spoke of how proud he had been to have him in his class."

"Charlie has never spoken of the incident." Amita commented thoughtfully. "Actually he hasn't said much at all about his college years."

"Well you know Charlie." Alan said dryly, leaning back and crossing his arms. "If it doesn't involve an equation it's not important enough to talk about."

"It sure smells good in here." Charlie's voice suddenly called out from the foyer.

A mixture of surprise and guilt crossed their faces; they came to their feet quickly and finished setting the table, with Charlie's additional help, just as Don and Robin arrived.

The chairs around the table filled up quickly with Don and Robin taking the left side of the table and Charlie and Amita on the opposite side. Alan and Larry each took an end seat and soon they were all busy filling up their plates.

Forty-five minutes later six well fed and relaxed people sat back in their chairs finishing up the wine while Don and Robin shared the highlights of their vacation.

"That roast duck was really good Dad." Don said raising his glass to his father. This was followed by hearty agreements all around bringing a broad grin to the elder man's face. "Speaking of roast duck, this reminds of a really funny story."

Alan peered suspiciously at his oldest son over the rim of his wine glass. "Are all of us going to find this tale of yours funny?"

Don grinned at him. "Oh, come on Dad even you have to admit it's a funny story."

Alan gazed at him thoughtfully, he had noticed a subtle undercurrent of uneasiness between his sons, it was small but it was definitely there. The elder Eppes had noticed it right away and the furtive glances that Amita was sending to Charlie and Robin to Don was enough to confirm his suspicions that something had happened between them. Perhaps a funny story would help to ease the tension. He waved his hand in the air and grumbled good-naturedly. "All right, go ahead and make fun of your old man."

Charlie glanced between them and asked. "What's this all about?"

Don laughed. "It happened about six years ago and Dad had a date with ah…..ah?" He glanced at his father. "What was her name?"

Alan took a sip of wine and thought for a minute. "Jill, I think it was Jill."

"Yeah…yeah I think that was it." Don Agreed. "Anyway, he didn't want to be alone so he insisted that I come for dinner and that I had to bring a date so I brought Terry with me." He looked at Robin and started to explain about his former partner. "Terry was my partner and we weren't dating, I just asked her along because Dad wanted it to appear like a double date."

Robin laughed and patted his hand. "Don you don't have to explain it to me, that was six years ago, before I even knew you."

"Oh…yeah…right." He chuckled, obviously relieved.

"I don't remember this at all." Charlie said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Where was I?"

"I think that you were at work Charlie." Alan interjected. "If my memory hasn't failed me, and I don't think that it has, you and Larry were at CalSci."

Robin nudged Don, eager for him to continue the story. "Go on."

"Okay so anyway, Dad made roast duck for dinner, just like tonight."

"What happened?" Amita asked, glancing at Charlie who just shrugged his shoulders since he had never heard the story before either.

"Bear with me; I'm getting to the funny part." Don urged with a chuckle. "Terry and I had taken the dirty salad dishes to the kitchen and Dad came in a few minutes later to get the duck out of the oven. I grabbed another bottle of wine and was in the process of opening it when Dad left to serve the bird." Don was grinning from ear to ear. "Terry and I lost it about a minute later." He glanced at his father with a half apologetic grin on his face. "Sorry Dad, but it was so funny."

"Go on….go on." Larry urged. "Don't keep us in suspense here."

"Now picture this." He grinned and leaned forward. "As Dad goes through the door he calls out in a jovial voice "I hope you like duck" and her response was….." he paused for effect, "I love ducks, I have two of them at home, one is Mr. Paddles and the other one is Mrs. Waddlesworth."

"Oh…no." Robin and Amita exclaimed at the same time. Grins were spreading across everyone's faces as they waited for the rest of the story.

"The next thing that you hear is a distressed, high pitch voice saying "I don't eat them!" and a few minutes later a very dejected Dad returns carrying the roast duck that he had spent the whole afternoon preparing."

They laughed so heartily at the story that even Alan couldn't help but join in on the fun.

"What happened then?" Larry asked.

Don shrugged. "Terry and I got a call about a case and we had to leave and later on I couldn't get Dad to ever tell me what happened."

All eyes turned toward Alan's end of the table; he tried to ignore the grinning expectant faces but they finally broke down his resolve and he gave in.

"Very well." Alan said, clearing his throat. "I stuck the bird in the fridge and we went out for pizza. After that I took her home and never saw her again."

After another round of laughter the group began to clear off the table and clean up the kitchen.

"Now would be a good time for you to talk to Charlie and clear the air." Robin said softly to Don so that no one else could hear her; she took the dirty dishes from his hands before he could reply and hurried to the kitchen.

Amita was thinking along the same lines as Robin and when Charlie started to grab a few of the plates she shooed him away and suggested that he should go out and feed the koi. "Your Dad and I didn't have a chance to feed them this evening and you know how hungry they get when we're late with the food."

"I'll do it as soon as I help you clean up."

I've got plenty of help." She said, giving him a slight shove. "Now go."

Throwing his hands up in the air in mock defeat he turned to leave. "Okay, I'll be back in a minute." Charlie called over his shoulder as he strode for the back door.

Don hesitated for just a moment before he followed his brother outside. The closer he got the more nervous he became; what if Charlie wouldn't listen or worse yet, what if he wouldn't forgive him and if that happened then that small gap that had started growing between them would grow into a large crater and he would never be able to breach it.

"Hey buddy." Don said tentatively; jamming his hands in his jeans pocket as he gazed at the fish in the pond. "They're really hungry, huh?"

Startled, Charlie met his eyes briefly before looking back at the pond. "Ah…yeah." He chuckled nervously. "The way they act you'd think that we've never fed them." He dusted his hands off and stood up. "I'm all finished now so we might as well go back inside."

Don grabbed his forearm as he passed by. "Charlie do you mind if we stay out here for a few minutes. There's something that I really need to talk to you about."

"Oh….sure. But if it's about the case I won't have an answer until tomorrow." Charlie responded; figuring that was the reason his brother had followed him outside. "I'm running the data through the super computer at school so I should have an answer for you in the morning."

"That's great Charlie but that's not what I wanted to talk about."

Charlie dropped his gaze to the pond but shook his head. "Fine. Let's talk." His voice hardened as he shoved his own hands in his jeans pockets then he suddenly looked up, his eyes flashing angrily. "What's really going on Don…..you don't call, don't write…..sound familiar?" Charlie raised his chin defiantly. "I thought we were good…..really partners. We worked those three cases together after Amita and I came home and it was like we had never left….it was even better than before." The younger man waved his arms around angrily and took a few steps backwards. "And then for no apparent reason you push me away, except when you needed my help of course, and even then you sent one of the other guys for my analysis."

Even in the growing darkness Don could see the hurt, anger and distrust in Charlie's expressive eyes and he had to look away; this was his fault and his stomach twisted in a knot as he desperately searched for the right words to explain to his brother why he had found it necessary to handle their last case together the way he had.

Don took a step closer and held his hands out in a placating manner. "Look Charlie…..I know I owe you an explanation and an apology for what I did and I can only hope that you will understand….and…and forgive me."

"Go on." Charlie said, watching him closely. "I'm listening."

"Henderson was a bad ass Charlie, as bad as they come and…"

"I hate to interrupt you guys but Charlie you have some visitors." Alan said, suddenly appearing at their side.

Don's head whipped around in surprise. "Visitors…now. " He said annoyed that their talk had been interrupted. _"Not now,"_ Don thought desperately," _not when we finally get a chance to_ _talk!"_

"Who is it Dad?" Charlie asked quietly his eyes still locked on his brother.

"Some government types Charlie. That's all I know."

Charlie nodded and moved slowly around his brother; pausing just long enough to say "sorry bro" before going into the house; Alan and Don quietly followed behind him.

Two men, one tall and one short, both dressed in dark suits were standing in the foyer making polite conversation with Amita, Robin and Larry. At Charlie's approach they straightened up and pulled I.D.'s from their pockets.

"I'm Agent Martin, NSA." The tall man announced. "And this is my partner Agent Kendrick." He added with a nod to the shorter man. "I'm sorry to bother you at this late hour Dr. Eppes but it's a matter of national security and we needed to talk to you right away."

"It always is." Charlie muttered, glancing from one agent to the other. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"Is there somewhere that we can talk privately?" Martin asked pointedly as his eyes drifted

over the other people in the room.

"Sure." Charlie said with a wave of his hand toward the solarium. "This way."

As the agents disappeared into the room Charlie glanced back at his family with an apologetic look. "Sorry guys, maybe this won't take very long."

But his words didn't hold much conviction and as he closed the door there was a tinge of sadness in his expression as he briefly met his brother's eyes.

**00000000000000000000**

Sean Leavens pushed a lock of his blond hair from his eyes and snapped his briefcase closed with a sigh of relief. He'd had a very busy day and was looking forward to a quiet evening at home. He glanced out of the office window as the rain began to pelt against the panes and walked over to pull the shades closed. His consulting firm was doing so well that he was thinking of going into a partnership with another analyst; his hours had been growing increasingly longer each day and although his office officially closed at four there were many days that he stayed until seven or even later.

The door opened suddenly and a man hurried inside; turning quickly he locked the door and lowered the blinds.

"My office is closed, didn't you see the sign?" Leavens asked, regretting the fact that he hadn't bothered to lock the door after his secretary had left. She had turned the closed sign around to face the outside and that was usually enough to deter anyone from entering his office so most of the time he didn't bother to get up and lock the door; an act that he was deeply regretting at the moment.

The stranger didn't answer right away but proceeded to shake the rain from his clothes and the duffle bag that he was carrying.

"Mister if you don't leave now I will call the police." Sean stated more forcefully as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

"Is that any way to treat an old acquaintance?" Ludwig said raising his head slowly.

Sean's finger hovered over the buttons on his phone as he tilted his head to the side and stared at the stranger. Recognition suddenly flared in his blue eyes and he stepped closer to the man.

"Professor Schiller?"

"Yes, my boy, it is I." Ludwig replied.

"What…what are you doing here?" Sean asked, surprised to see his old college professor suddenly materialize in his office.

"Why…I'm here for you Sean." Schiller said as he pulled a small revolver from his jacket pocket and pointed it at him. "I'm here for your redemption Mr. Leavens…..yours and mine."

Speechless, Sean could only gaze at the specter standing in front of him; a shudder coursed through his body as he watched Ludwig's lips curve upward in a slight smile but his eyes remained cold and unyielding.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By 1__st__ Endeavor_

_A/N: Thank you for reviews and alerts. I appreciate each and every one of them._

Chapter 6:

_Wednesday, 6:30 a.m._

Don raised his chin and gently glided the razor over his skin; after years of practice he had the art of shaving down to a science and normally this procedure was performed without incident but this morning was proving to be a bit of a challenge.

He rinsed the razor in the sink and tried again but just as before his mind began to drift to the previous evening. Don had finally been given the opportunity to straighten things out with his brother; a chance to open up and explain his feelings. This was not an easy task for him and it had been hard for him to learn to ask others for help, especially Charlie. He knew the visits with Bradford had helped him to realize and overcome his need to take control of every situation and that he could rely on others for support in both his professional and personal life.

It was the relationship with his brother though, that had proved to be the most complicated and after years of pushing him away he had discovered that he truly enjoyed having him around. During the six months that Charlie had been away he had missed him more than he would have believed possible and had welcomed him back with an open heart and to his delight Charlie had felt the same way; his brother had really become his best friend and Don wasn't afraid to admit that he truly loved is brother. But that relationship was in danger now and it was up to Don to set it right. Last night was proof of that; he had seen the anguish in his brother's eyes and knew that his actions had put it there. With a firm resolve Don had been prepared to do whatever was necessary to make things right again but then fate had intervened and they had been interrupted. The more that Don thought about it, the more infuriated he became and although he knew he was being unreasonable and shouldn't blame Charlie for the appearance of the NSA agents he just couldn't seem to help himself.

"Damn!" he swore suddenly when once again the razor connected with more than his beard; angrily ripping a piece of toilet paper from the roll he quickly slapped it over the cut and gazed in dismay at his reflection in the mirror. The anger and frustration that was clouding his brown eyes morphed into disbelief as he counted the pieces of tissue that were sticking to his face and neck. He couldn't even remember the last time that he had managed to nick himself just once, let alone this many times. His foul mood increased as he cursed softly to himself and glared at the spots where the paper clung to his skin.

"Ah…the hell with it! It's good enough." He grumbled impatiently and grabbed the towel to pat his face and wipe the remaining shaving crème from his neck. Don hurriedly peeled the tissue paper from his skin but although two of the cuts had dried the third and most recent one was still bleeding, prompting him to tear another small piece of paper to cover it.

Don shuffled to the bedroom and pulled a long sleeved blue-striped shirt from a hanger. Over the past year the agent had been dressing more casually for work but this morning he had a meeting with the ADIC and had chosen to wear his gray suit. He slipped into his slacks and grabbed a solid navy tie from the closet; pausing suddenly he lifted his nose higher and sniffed at the air as the smell of coffee wafted back to the bedroom. A slow smiled crept over his face as he looped the tie around his neck and crossed over to the nightstand; removing his gun, badge and phone from the drawer he quickly attached them to his belt. Don grabbed his suit jacket and headed down the hallway lured toward the kitchen by the welcoming smell of java.

As he stepped into the kitchen Robin greeted him with a smile. "I heard you stomping down the hallway and figured that I would need this to soothe the angry beast." She said teasingly as she held up a large mug already filled to the brim with the warm brew.

Don paused in the act of hanging his jacket over one of the kitchen chairs and gave her a puzzled look. "Stomping? I don't recall stomping….running maybe because the smell of the coffee spurred me on." He released the jacket and stepped closer; kissing her lightly on the lips before taking the cup in both hands. "Thanks."

Already dressed and ready for work, Robin leaned casually against the kitchen counter and looked him over; noting the wrinkled forehead, the tight lines around his mouth and finally the cuts she decided to take the risk and ask what was going on.

"Bad morning?" She inquired, eyeing him innocently over her coffee cup.

"How can you tell?" He asked sarcastically with a roll of his shoulders.

"The…ah….cuts were a dead giveaway." Robin answered, pointedly looking at his neck.

Embarrassed, Don's face reddened and he glanced away. "Oh…I guess I wasn't paying attention." He took a sip of coffee and met her eye. "Hmmm, this tastes good."

"Same as always." Robin replied, crossing her arms but refusing to let it go. "You wouldn't be trying to change the subject would you?"

"What?" He replied with a raise of his eyebrows and a look that clearly said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come on Don. You're not still mad at Charlie are you?" She asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "It wasn't really his fault you know?"

"I wasn't…..I'm not mad at Charlie." Don replied hastily. "I was… just a little…irritated, that's all."

"Right." She snorted. "A little irritated? You literally growled all the way home last night." She grinned suddenly. "I thought there was an animal in the car with us."

"Did not." he responded defensively and then grinned wolfishly at her as he stepped closer.  
"I didn't hear any complaints after we got home."

Robin set her cup down and stepped closer, cupping his face in her hands; she kissed him thoroughly before letting him go. "I don't recall hearing a "growl" in our bedroom either." She teased lightly as she gathered up the loose ends of his tie and tied it in a full Windsor knot.

"Thanks." He said huskily. "Keep this up and we'll both be late this morning."

Robin laughed softly and then became serious when she thought of how much Don had been looking forward to speaking with his brother the night before. "It's not as if those two agents really gave him a choice Don."

"I know that." Don said quickly, gazing sideways at her. "The timing could have been better…that's all." He took a sip of coffee and glanced at his watch. "Are we riding in together or taking separate cars?"

"Separate." She said smoothly as she rinsed out her cup and put it in the dishwasher. "The Anderson appeal is on tomorrow's docket so I have a late meeting this evening with the prosecuting attorney."

Don nodded as he rinsed his own cup and put it away; he grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair and slid his arms into its sleeves.

"Aren't you going to eat breakfast?" Robin asked with a frown.

"Naw…I'll grab something at work. I've got to get going anyway; I have a meeting with the ADIC this morning." He stepped closer; taking her in his arms he whispered in her ear. "I want you to be careful out there."

"That goes double for you." Robin replied, locking eyes with him. "I love you Don."

"I love you too." He repeated softly as he kissed her one more time before pulling away. "Maybe we can meet for lunch?"

"Maybe." She called after him and suddenly grinned. "Oh…. Agent Eppes?"

Don glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to see a smirk on her face. "What?"

Robin touched a spot under her chin. "You….ah…might want to remove the tissue."

Don grinned, slightly embarrassed as his fingers fumbled underneath his chin until they connected with the paper. "Oh...yeah…I'd forgotten all about that." He plucked it off and tossed it into the trash.

"Thanks." Don said as he opened the door.

"You're welcome." She answered, still grinning as the door closed behind him.

**00000000000000000000**

_10:00 a.m._

Charlie had taken only a few steps from the elevator before he had to stop and disentangle himself from his laptop case. Having impatiently waited for his bag to pass through security he had grabbed it as soon as it hit the end of the conveyor belt and tossed it over his head at a run. In his haste the young professor hadn't noticed that one end of his blazer had somehow managed to wrap itself around the strap until he felt it pulling against his neck. Muttering that he should have used his new bag instead of the old one he grabbed the end of his jacket and tried to pull it loose but try as he might, he couldn't get it free and in a fit of frustration jerked the strap back over his head, sending his curls flying in all directions. Irritably he shrugged out of the jacket and pulled at the material with such force that his bag slipped from his shoulder and barely managed to catch it before it hit the floor; his jacket now free dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Cursing softly to himself he knelt to pick it up just as Nikki and Liz rounded the corner of a cubicle.

Nikki didn't bother to hide her grin. "Hey Charlie, that's a new look for you."

"Bad hair day?" Liz asked trying but failing to keep the laughter out of her voice.

Thoroughly embarrassed, Charlie straightened up with his blazer clutched in one hand. "You have no idea." He muttered, self-consciously running his fingers through his curls in an attempt to bring a little symmetry to them. His eyes drifted around the office; he really needed to hurry. "Where's Don?"

Liz shrugged her shoulders. "No idea, we just got back ourselves. David might know he and Colby were in the conference room when we left."

"Right." The young professor said in a clipped voice and rushed past them.

"Hey did you find something?" Nikki called out as she and Liz hurried to catch up to him.

With an exaggerated sigh the young professor glanced at his watch and hastened toward the conference room. He didn't have a lot of time to spare but it was important to share the results of his analysis with Don and his team as soon as possible. His latest run on the super computer at CalSci had resulted in a surprising discovery so in between classes he had rushed over to the FBI office. He rushed into the conference room where David and Colby were busy going over the evidence; they both looked up in surprise as he entered the room.

"Hey Charlie." David said. "I didn't expect to see you here; Larry said you had a pretty tight schedule this week".

"He's absolutely right and I literally have only a few minutes before I have to leave." He said breathlessly. "Where's Don?"

"He's with the ADIC, should be back in about ten minutes."

The young professor checked his watch again and immediately moved to a table. "I don't have time to wait so you guys will have to explain it to him." Pushing a few file folders aside, he hastily pulled his laptop from his bag and hooked it up to the FBI's system. "Larry mentioned that Don thought the aspects of the murder case sounded familiar to him so I expanded my data mining program to cover all fifty states. "

Colby shared a skeptical look with his partner. "All the states? Charlie the sad truth is that there are thousands of murders committed in this country every year."

"Last year's nationwide total was 16,272.00." Charlie recited grimly as he pushed a few errant curls out of his eyes. "So far this year's total is about half of that , of course since we're only half way through the year we may still have time to top that total."

"Isn't that too much data to work with?" Nikki asked; ignoring his sarcasm.

"No. I designed my algorithm to look for murders with the general aspects found in this case so the more data it has to search through, the better my chances of finding other similar cases. For instance I originally had it looking for all murders where the victim had their hands tied behind their backs with a rope, and were beaten before they were shot in the back of the head."

"You must have come up with a high number of victims Charlie because that's a signature killing for the mob and some gangland slayings." David said, starting to feel like they were at a dead end already.

"You're right; I ended up with more than a thousand names." Charlie's voice took on a more excited tone as he explained his method. "But then I refined my search to include victims that had been beaten in a specific manner prior to being shot with a small caliber gun and narrowed it even further to deaths where the object that had been used to beat them had not been identified. " Charlie's eyes drifted from agent to agent before giving them the news. "This wasn't a random killing…..you don't have just one murder on your hands…. you have five."

"Charlie you found four more victims?" David asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

"My algorithm found four more people whose deaths match Dr. Brogan's in every detail." He said emphatically, gesturing toward the large plasma screen with the remote to his laptop.

"All of these victims were beaten in the same manner that Dr. Brogan was. The pattern of the bruises, the way her hands were tied behind her back and the type of gun that was used to kill her; each of these details point to the same killer."

David rubbed his moustache thoughtfully as he felt the full impact of the professor's words. "You said that your analysis covered all fifty states right?" Charlie nodded his head in affirmation. "Exactly how many different states are we talking here Charlie?"

Charlie raised one hand and spread his fingers. "Five….five different states." He paced in front of the screen tossing his hands in the air. "This can't be a coincidence, why the odds of just two of these murders being unrelated are ten million to one, let alone five of them." He clicked the button on his remote and a young Asian man appeared on the plasma screen next to the one of Dr. Brogan.

"Henri Yang, Baltimore, Maryland, murdered on March 5th, 2010." He clicked the button again and the photograph of a young latino woman appeared. "Sylvia Mendoza-Stevens, Denver, Colorado; murdered April 10th, 2010."

Colby whistled through his teeth. "Are you sure about this Charlie?"

"Positive. " Charlie replied and clicked the remote again to display another photograph. "James Regan, Atlanta, Georgia, murdered May 15th, 2010, Jefferson Crandall, Las Vegas, Nevada, murdered May 25th, 2010, and finally Alicia Brogan, murdered June 5, 2010, Los Angeles, California."

"Maybe the killer's job takes him to different states and then he chooses his victims." Liz mused out loud.

"I applied a critical path analysis to try and determine the killer's methodology." Charlie said, ignoring her observation as he rushed over to a blank whiteboard; he continued to explain his analysis as he drew a chart to help the agents understand his methods. When he was finished he glanced over his shoulder and suppressed a sigh at the blank stares the agents were exchanging; he put down the chalk and turned to face them.

"Guys, this is a mathematically based algorithm for scheduling an effective manner for completing tasks."

"I don't get how that relates to our killer?" Nikki asked loudly, gesturing toward the chart.

"Charlie this looks familiar to me, you've used this analysis before haven't you?" Liz said slowly, stepping closer to study the chart.

"Yes and I believe that both you and David were present at the time." Charlie said beaming; always pleased when one or more of the agents remembered his algorithms.

Colby rubbed the back of his neck. "So where are we going with this?"

Charlie's smile faded and he rubbed his temple momentarily while he thought of another way to explain his methods. "Colby imagine that you had to arrange five appointments for one day and the locations were scattered all across LA County. For this example we'll name the locations of your appointments (A) through (E); the first thing that you would do would be to sit down and plan the most efficient course to achieve your objective." He gestured with his hand. "You would arrange your appointments in the most convenient order; A, B, C, D and E. Right?"

"Of course."Colby agreed."It wouldn't make sense to do it any other way."

"That is what the critical path method does and if our killer had gone for efficiency he would have killed these victims in a different order. Let's say our victims locations are (A) through (E)."

Charlie moved back to the whiteboard and listed the letters A through E. Opposite each letter he wrote the two digit abbreviation of the state that each of the victims had lived in. He listed the states in the most efficient order for a person traveling across country.

A – MD

B – GA

C – CO

D – NV

E – CA

The professor put the cap back on the marker and turned around gesturing at the board. "But our killer isn't following the most efficient path; he's all over the map. Let's say that Henri Yang is (A) and James Regan is (B) but instead of going for (B), which is the most logical choice, our killer goes for (C) then back to (B) followed by (D) and (E)." He tossed his hands in the air in frustration. "Without more data my algorithm can't identify a clear methodology to the order of these killings."

"I don't remember reading about any of these murders." David said glancing at the other agents. "Do they look familiar to you guys?"

Liz stepped around a table and studied the photographs. "Maybe Alicia Brogan was the only one working a case that warranted the attention of the FBI, all of the others were probably handled by the local police."

"I believe that my brother must have read about Dr. Crandall's murder while he and Robin were in Las Vegas last week."Charlie said pointing to the victim's photograph. "That would explain why Brogan's murder sounded familiar to him."

"I can't argue with that logic." David muttered; his eyes drifting from picture to picture.

Charlie's eyebrows rose suddenly as he glanced at his watch. "Guys I gotta go."

The young man hurriedly stuffed his laptop back in the bag; ducking his head as he looped it over his shoulder. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door but paused with a hand holding it open as he added. "I've downloaded all of my data to your system but if you come up with anything else give me a call." And then he was rushing toward the elevator with David's "Thanks Charlie" echoing behind him.

**00000000000000000000**

Don absently watched the lights in the elevator flicker from floor to floor as he mulled over the information the D.O.D agent had given them. In the interest of "full disclosure" a meeting had been set up to review Dr. Brogan's work and the ADIC had requested to be present but after the hour long meeting Don was considering turning the Brogan case back over to the local police; Homeland Security, as well as the D.O.D. felt that the scientist's work had been in a low priority area and that the little she could have gleaned from the project was not enough to be considered a threat to national security.

The bell chimed and the door opened but before he could exit someone rushed in forcing him to take a step backwards to avoid a collision.

"Hey!" He said crossly. "Watch where you're…." Don's words trailed off as his eyes met those of his brothers.

"Sorry, I didn't…." Charlie was saying at the same time, his owns words trailing off when he realized who he had almost careened into. "Don!"

"Hey Buddy." Don answered, his eyes lighting up with amusement. He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder to steady him. "I didn't expect to see you this morning?"

"Well actually…." Charlie's eyes flickered sideways and were full of regret when he looked back. "The super computer kicked out some important data for your case and I wanted to get it to you right away so I rushed over…..but ….but I can't stay any longer Don. I couldn't wait for you so I explained my analysis to the rest of the guys. I…I've got to get back to CalSci."

Crestfallen Don shrugged indifferently; taking a step back he let his hand drop to his side and gazed sadly at his brother; maybe he was wrong and Charlie didn't really want to settle their differences. "Ah… …sure. Thanks for bringing it over." Without another word he stepped around him and out of the elevator.

Charlie's arm caught the elevator door just before it closed. "Hey Don." He called out, suddenly feeling guilty by the downhearted look on his brother's face.

Don stopped and turned to face him with a guarded expression on his face. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about last night." Charlie said, shrugging uncomfortably.

Don's features had taken on a stoic look as he shoved his emotions to the back burner. "That's okay…I understand." He started to turn away when Charlie called out again.

"Listen….ah…do you want to get together for dinner tonight?" He asked tentatively. "Amita has a committee meeting and I have one at 7:30 but I was thinking that we could meet at six at that little diner on Alvardo…..you know the one I mean?" Charlie watched breathlessly as Don turned back around.

"Okay…sure." Don nodded slightly as a small smile spread across his face. "Robins going to work late tonight too so …..yeah…..I'd like that."

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I'll see you at six then." He glanced at his watch and his expression changed to one of panic. "I've got to go."

Don was grinning now too. "See you later….and drive carefully." He called out as the door closed and the elevator finally began its descent.

Don jauntily pivoted on his heel and strode toward the conference room in a more lighthearted mood than he had been in all morning.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

By the Dawn's Early Light

_By 1__st__ Endeavor_

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1_

_A/N: I appreciate all of your reviews and alerts. Thank you._

_Spoilers: Hotshot, Convergence_

_Chapter 7:_

_Wednesday 11:00 a.m._

Don's mood was growing lighter with each step that he took toward the conference room; running into Charlie at the elevator had lifted his spirits considerably. Infused with his new found energy he pushed the glass door of the conference room open with so much force that it almost hit a section of one of the glass walls.

Four heads whipped around in surprise as he burst into the room; noting their startled expressions he quickly grabbed the door handle and closed it slowly."Sorry." he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. "Guess I don't know my own strength."

"I want whatever you had for breakfast." Colby said, exchanging a grin with David.

Nikki's eyes lit up mischievously. "Make mine a double boss."

"Yeah, yeah." Don muttered good-naturedly. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over one of the empty chairs around the table and then turned his attention to the photographs on the plasma screen; his lighthearted mood vanished quickly as he studied the pictures.

"What's this now?" He asked with a nod toward the TV.

David peered over the top of his laptop. "Charlie was just here. You missed him by about three minutes."

"I know." Don said quietly, stepping around the corner of the table. "I ran into him in the elevator…literally." He added with a chuckle.

"He left us with a few surprises." Colby said dryly; pointing toward the screen.

"So I see. Who are they?" Don asked, leaning back against the table as he loosened his tie and began to roll up his sleeves.

"Charlie's analysis found four more victims." David said as he pushed his chair back and clamored to his feet. "Four more victims that resided in four different states but he needs more data before he can come up with any kind of pattern to help us determine how the killer is choosing his victims."

Don straightened up; scrubbing a hand through his hair as he moved closer to the screen and perused the pictures. He had made up his mind to turn the case over to the local police but if Charlie's analysis was correct, and it usually was, then he had someone crossing state lines committing murders and that was definitely the FBI's jurisdiction.

"Did Charlie find any connections between them?"

"He hasn't really had a chance to look." David answered, shrugging his shoulders. "Charlie only broadened his search because Larry mentioned to him that you thought the case had looked familiar. If he hadn't taken the time to do that then we still wouldn't know about these guys."

Colby shared an uneasy glance with Liz and Nikki; was Don really going to get angry with Charlie because he didn't have more information for them? "Don, he rushed over a soon as his analysis was finished so that we could get started on it right away." Colby said, feeling a sudden need to defend his friend.

Don smiled slightly at their attempt to come to his brother's defense; Charlie had indeed become one of the team and anyone of the agents would come to the mathematician's aid if they thought he needed defending.

"Whoa….whoa." he said with a slight wave of his hand. "Charlie's got a lot on his plate right now…I know that. I'm just glad that he took the time to bring this over here."

David's lips curved upward in a slight smile; relieved by Don's statement. "What do you think?"

"I think that if Charlie says these murders are related then it's up to us to connect the dots." The SAC replied, walking over to stand beside of David. "I'll stay on Brogan, you guys take the other four and we'll compare notes later."

Nikki hurriedly clicked a few keys on her laptop; eager to get started. "I've got Henri Yang." She said and then looked up. "Do you think there is more than one killer?"

"Serial killers don't usually operate in pairs." Liz answered with a slight shake of her head. She tapped a few keys and then added. "I've got Mendoza-Stevens."

Colby nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it would be unusual for two serial killers to have the same motivation. I guess I'll take James Reagan."

Liz leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Unless it isn't a serial killer at all. Maybe they were all in some type of business venture that went south."

"That's possible but whatever the reason; he or they have one hell of a motivation." David said as he sat back down and started typing in the name of the remaining victim.

Don rubbed his chin as he silently studied the photographs then he turned letting his eyes drift over the faces of his team.

"We need to stop this guy before he kills again."

**00000000000000000000**

Wednesday 11:00 a.m.

Schiller groaned and covered his head with a pillow; it was useful in keeping the outside noises at bay. But nothing he tried could stem the voice inside his head; it was coming more often now and usually took charge during the sessions with his students.

Ludwig was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and go back to sleep but the voice was relentless, always pressing him onward, constantly pushing him to full fill his destiny and ominously warning him that if he failed this time he would not get a second chance for redemption.

"No….no…I…I…I'll get up." He whined piteously as he came to a sitting position. "I'm getting up ….see…see." Ludwig begged; throwing the covers off his body he staggered to his feet and swayed momentarily while he gained his balance. Suddenly his head whipped toward the door when he heard loud voices coming from the hallway and physically jumped when there was a knock at the door.

"Cleaning staff." A male voice called out. "Is anyone still in there?"

"Y..es….yes." Schiller replied loudly rushing over to the door. "Ah…I'm still in here. " A quick glance at the clock was all that he needed to remind him that check out time was at 11:30. "I'll be out in a half an hour." He yelled through the door.

"Okay sir. We'll come back later." The voice answered and Ludwig breathed a sigh of relief; he opened the door a crack and watched as they moved away pushing a cart laden with cleaning supplies.

Swallowing hard, he quickly strode to his open suitcase, grabbed a change of clothing and rushed to the bathroom; after a quick shower he dressed and gathered up his belongings. Ludwig did a quick check around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything and was just about to open the door when he caught sight of his duffel bag out of the corner of his eye. Schiller set his suitcase by the door and slowly shuffled over to the bag. A look of disgust crossed his features; he hated that bag or more to the point, he hated the object that was inside of the bag.

"_Why wouldn't they listen to me?" _He whimpered_. "If only they had listened then I could have left "it" in the satchel…I never would have been forced to use it." _Moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes as he reluctantly bent over to pick up the bag; hanging it over his shoulder he turned back around and headed for the door.

"Look at you…you're such a weakling Schiller. You disgust me." The voice sneered suddenly, causing Ludwig to stumble. "If you had been strong then your students wouldn't need these lessons would they?"

"I…I.." Ludwig stammered.

"Shut up!" The voice yelled. "Get moving we still have a three hour drive to Mount St. Helens before our next session. MOVE!"

Meekly but quickly, Ludwig grabbed his suitcase and laptop bag; with only minutes to spare he rushed out of the room nearly running into the approaching cleaning crew.

**0000000000000000000**

At five-forty five Don casually glanced at his watch while he waited for the traffic light to change. Traffic in Los Angeles was always congested at this time of day but despite that he had made fairly good time and the small diner where he was going to meet his brother was only a block away.

Don rested his elbow on the top of the door frame and rubbed his temple as he mulled over the best way to bring up the Henderson case with Charlie; would it be better to just blurt it out or lead up to it slowly? Although seemingly lost in thought the agent was very much aware of the activity around him; it was second nature for him to constantly scan his surroundings so when he noticed a sudden rapid movement in his right side view mirror he instantly focused on the cause.

There was a strip mall on his right that contained a number of stores as well as a small branch of the Los Angeles National Bank. The loud alarm bell of the bank began to shrill suddenly as three men wearing face masks raced from the bank to a car that was idling in front of the building. Don heard a shout and looked up just as a bank security guard called out a warning and raised his weapon to fire but he had to duck for cover when one of the robbers shot at him first. The men clambered into the car and the driver stepped on the gas; immediately a cloud of bluish-gray smoke burst forth from the tail pipe, momentarily blocking the car from view. The vehicle abruptly surged out of the smoke as the powerful V8 engine came to life with a resounding roar and sped across the mall parking lot; barely dodging pedestrians, parked and moving cars as the driver raced frantically toward the intersection.

Don's reaction was almost instinctive; simultaneously stepping on the gas and hitting the lights and siren button on his vehicle. He pulled out of line and began to squeeze his SUV through the narrow gap between the row of stopped cars ahead of him and the edge of the road; all the while trying to stay parallel with the fleeing vehicle.

Slowly, too slowly for Don, the line of cars began to inch over as far as they could go to give him the room that he needed to get by but he was still one car length behind the robbers and the intersection was coming up fast.

"3695 to control." Don hit his radio button and quickly relayed the situation to Control as he raced ahead, keeping one eye on the road in front of him and one on the speeding vehicle to his right.

"3695 go." Control responded.

"Bank robbery in progress. Four suspects. Shots fired." He relayed in a clipped voice. "I'm in pursuit. Suspects are headed south on Alvarado. Vehicle is an early model dark brown Mercury Monarch. Code 3, I repeat Code 3."

"Roger that 3695."

The traffic light changed just as the criminals made it to the intersection and the driver made a quick right turn down the next street; the bluish-gray smoke leaving a trail behind him. Don had caught up though and was right on his tail as he continued to relay their position.

"Suspects just turned west on East California Boulevard. License number 8, 2, 7, Henry, 9, l, 5."

Don turned the wheel suddenly to avoid a pedestrian but maintained his speed to keep up with the other vehicle.

"3695 back up is on the way. ETA five minutes."

"Roger that control. I want an"eye in the sky" ASAP and patch me through to my team. Over."

They were approaching another red-lighted intersection and the other vehicle was not showing any signs of slowing down; as Don followed them through the red light he prayed that the other drivers were paying attention to his lights and sirens.

**0000000000000000000**

Charlie glanced at his watch as he strolled toward the door of The Pie and Burger Diner; it was the most popular eatery located near the school and boasted of having the best lemon meringue pie in all of Los Angeles. Charlie vehemently concurred with that observation and was thinking about a slice of pie as he scanned the parking lot for his brother's SUV. Six forty-five and there was no sign of Don but the professor was sure that he would arrive soon; his steps faltered and he paused mid-step when the sounds of an alarm and sirens suddenly erupted in the distance. The young man turned and squinted in the direction of the disturbance but he could just barely make out the flashing of red and blue lights before they disappeared from view.

Dismissing the distant activity he turned and entered the diner. He chose a booth with a window facing the street so that he could watch for Don and glanced out just as a LAPD cruiser sped by with its siren blaring and lights flashing.

He frowned and rubbed his chin nervously. _"Not Don."_ He muttered under his breath. _"Probably an accident or something like that."_

"Did you say something Professor Eppes?" A female voice inquired politely.

Startled out of his reverie, Charlie quickly looked up at the waitress standing beside of the booth. Her white apron was in stark contrast to the black clothing that the young woman was wearing beneath it but it did nearly match the paleness of her skin. Charlie was not a stranger to the Goth culture and the young lady standing before him wearing black lipstick, loads of eyeliner, black tight-fitting jeans and a black "Sisters of Mercy' tee shirt fit the genre perfectly. To complete the picture her shoulder length red hair had been pulled back with a clip revealing a spider-web tattoo on her neck.

"Ah….no, I didn't say anything." He replied quickly; surprised that he had actually spoken loud enough to be heard by anyone…..and then he realized that he had been called by name. He cocked his head to get a better look at the girl and his eyes widened in surprise when he recognized the waitress. Charlie shook his head in amazement; no one who saw her would ever guess that hidden beneath that gothic attire was one of his brightest students. "I didn't know that you were working here Jessica?"

"My parents said that if I was going to dress this way that I would have to get a job and pay for the clothes myself." She answered, waiving around a pale colored hand adorned with fingernails coated with black nail polish. "So…here I am."

"So I see." He responded in an amused tone

"Anyway." Jessica said, getting down to business. "Would you like to order now or is Professor Ramajuan….I mean...Mrs. Eppes going to join you?" She pulled a small pad and pencil from her pocket and posed with her pencil hovering over the paper.

"She's working tonight." Charlie answered "But my brother should be here soon and then we'll order."

"You're brother!" Jessica squealed gleefully; her eyes growing big with excitement. "The FBI agent? He is sooooo hot! Please tell me that he isn't married too? "

Her confession took him by surprise; leaving him momentarily speechless. "Ah…not yet, but he is engaged to be married."

"Oh drat." She sighed dramatically; her smile morphing into a frown. "It's just my luck that he would already have someone." Her eyes lit up suddenly and she added enthusiastically, "There is always a chance that he might break up with her."

"Jessica you do realize that Don is a lot older than you are…..right?" " Charlie asked, suddenly concerned that she was really serious about wanting to have a relationship with his brother.

The girl rolled her eyes and looked at him like he had lost his mind. "Professor Eppes, you of all people should know that I can do the Math and for the record I do not consider age to be an obstacle." Shrugging nonchalantly she poised her hand once again over her notepad. "Do you want anything while you wait?"

"A glass of water would be nice." Charlie answered doing his best not to burst out laughing.

"Okay, I'll be right back." She pivoted on her heel and hurried away to get his drink.

Charlie watched her as she practically skipped across the floor; her high spirits rebounding with a buoyant energy. Imagining Don's reaction when Jessica waited on him brought an impish grin to his face; this could be fun.

The young woman returned with his water and a promise that she would be back shortly to take his order. He took a sip and a guilty thought flitted briefly across his mind; maybe he should warn Don about her after all but that idea faded quickly as a mischievous twinkle lit up his brown eyes. His gaze drifted to the clock over the counter and then back to the window; six ten. Don would be there soon….he would have called if something had come up.

**000000000000000000**

The Mercury put on a sudden burst of speed and pulled ahead of the agent's car; nearly sideswiping a jeep full of teenagers as they pulled out of a side street. The vehicle instantly veered around the shocked kids and raced ahead.

Don had to slow the SUV long enough to squeeze around the now stalled vehicle causing him to lose precious ground. A quick glance in his rear view mirror revealed that one of the two LAPD cruisers behind him had stopped to render assistance to the young people.

"Suspect turned left onto S Arroyo Parkway."

The agent spat out as he gripped the wheel tightly and made a sharp left; tires squealing as he entered the parkway with the cruiser following closely behind him. Don spotted the Monarch almost immediately; it was weaving dangerously in between the other cars on the highway.

The agent surged ahead, closing the gap between them when the Mercury suddenly switched lanes and veered toward an exit.

"Subject is merging on the I-5 South, toward Santa Cruz. Over." Don called out as he switched lanes to keep them in sight.

"Roger that 3695." Control responded.

"Where the hell is that chopper?" He called out angrily as he gained ground on the suspects. In the distance he could see the flashing lights of several LAPD cruises as they moved into place and blocked the entrance to I-5.

But the criminals had seen them too and darted in front of a stretch limo to merge in another lane. The driver of the limo reacted instantly by braking and switching lanes to avoid rear ending the vehicle but in the process rammed a pickup truck which in turn hit another car causing a three car pileup on the highway. Don barely averted the collision and managed to keep the speeding vehicle in sight but he lost the second cruiser when the officer stopped to take charge of the accident.

"Suspects are taking Exit 17A on Atlantic Blvd. Vehicle is heading toward Maywood. Over."

"Roger that."

Don floored the accelerator and was only a few cars behind the mercury when it made a left turn and disappeared from view.

"Lost visual." He cried out and pulled ahead when the car in front of him moved to the side of the road. Don came to a quick stop right after he made a left; there were two side streets as well as the main road they were traveling on and the mercury wasn't in sight.

"Crap." Don let the SUV idle while he tried to decide which road to take; one street led to the industrial district of Vernon and the other would lead to I-70S toward Long Beach. I-70 would be the most logical escape route but Don figured that the criminals had to know that there would be roadblocks at the entrance so the next best choice would be to continue on Atlantic Boulevard all the way to Maywood.

Don's head swiveled toward the third choice, the road on the right; this one led to the industrial district, an area almost entirely comprised of warehouses and factories. He wiped at the sweat on his forehead, it felt like he had been sitting there for hours but in reality only a few minutes had passed. The agent started to turn his head but something in the street caught his eye and he rolled down his window to get a closer look at it. The street was narrow with tall buildings jutting up on both sides that blocked the southern wind from swirling down the street in full force which was why Don was suddenly smiling.

"Gottcha!" Don muttered excitedly and hit his radio button. "3695 to Control. Over"

"3695 go ahead."

"Suspects have turned right on District Boulevard. I repeat", he said, pausing to look up as the helicopter flew overhead. "Suspects have turned right on District Boulevard."

"Roger that ."

Confident that he was going to catch up to the bank robbers Don turned the wheel and raced down the street following a faint wisp of bluish-gray exhaust.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By 1st Endeavor_

A/N: Thank you for your reviews

Chapter 8:

Charlie lowered the menu and peered eagerly around the edge of the booth to catch a glimpse of the latest group of people that was entering the diner but the hopeful glint in his eyes faded to one of disappointment when he discovered that his brother was not one of them.

The sounds of distant sirens could be heard through the open doorway and all heads automatically swiveled around to catch sight of the emergency vehicles but they were too far away to be seen so with dismissive shrugs the patrons resumed their meals and conversations. The young professor sighed as his eyes drifted back to the menu once again; Don was overdue and Charlie wasn't sure how much longer he could wait before placing his dinner order.

As if she could read his thoughts the waitress materialized at his side; her pencil poised over her notepad and ready to take his order.

"Still no sign of your brother?" she asked dispiritedly; her mood suddenly growing as dark as her clothing.

"No," Charlie answered with a slight shake of his head, "something must have come up at his office." He closed the menu and placed it on the table. "I'm ready to order now Jessica. I'd like the mushroom burger platter and I'll have a slice of lemon meringue pie for desert."

"How would you like your hamburger prepared Professor?"

"Medium rare and I'd like a glass of unsweetened iced tea too please."

"I'll put your order in right away Professor." She picked up the menu and nodded toward the window as she turned away. "It's a good thing that you decided to order now because it looks like we're about to get really busy."

Charlie glanced out of the window just as a multitude of students began to spill out of two recently parked cars. His eyebrows rose slightly in amusement; how was it possible to squeeze that much mass into such a small amount of space?

**0000000000000000000**

Don twisted around in his seat, craning his neck in an attempt to catch sight of the police helicopter as it flew overhead.

"3695 to Air One. Over." The agent held the radio in one hand and steered with the other as he drove down the street searching for the suspect's car; his eyes shifted rapidly from one side of the street to the other in his efforts to locate the criminals.

"Go ahead 3695. Over."

"Do you have eyes on the vehicle? Over."

"Negative 3695. We're moving down to the end of the boulevard. Over."

"Roger that." Don grunted in response. The mercury hadn't been that far ahead of him so if the chopper couldn't see them, then that meant they must have pulled off the highway somewhere; the big question was where?

The boulevard veered to the right and skirted a 5.2 sq mi industrial park. Traffic was lighter now; most of the workers had left at the five o'clock hour and the manufacturing plants that worked the late shifts were all located on the far side of the park. Don fervently hoped that he would catch up to them near one of the emptier warehouses; the less the chance of hostages, the better he liked it.

He flipped on his turn signal and made a right onto a two lane road that circled the industrial complex. On his left was a large metalworking warehouse that appeared to be closed for the day. A lone, late model pickup truck was parked near the main entrance and there were no workers in sight. Don slowed down bringing the SUV almost to a stop as he studied the structure; he was getting one of his "gut feelings" about the place, a feeling that warned him that something was wrong here.

Dusk was approaching and as the sun began its descent Don hurriedly searched the sides of the building for any activity. The sun's rays enveloped the building at a lower angle touching areas that it couldn't reach before and Don thought that he saw something shiny reflecting the sunlight. He focused his gaze on the far side of the structure to the darkened shadows that ran alongside of the building but was unable to see anything.

Don brought the SUV to a complete stop; quickly pulling a pair of pocket binoculars from his glove compartment he focused them on the shiny object. The glare of the reflection made it impossible to identify the object and once the sun set it would be hidden deep within the shadows of the building.

"3695 to Air One. Over."

"Go ahead 3695."

"I'm at," Don's head swiveled around as he looked for an address, "5015 District Boulevard. I need you to fly to the east side of the warehouse and see if there is anything parked next to the building. It could be our suspects. Over."

"Roger that 3695."

Don's cell phone rang while he watched the helicopter veer outward to make its turn.

"Eppes."

"Don what is your location?" David asked anxiously.

"I'm sitting in front of a warehouse at 5015 District Boulevard. I think the perpetrators have pulled off the highway and are hiding somewhere in the industrial park."

"Our ETA is five minutes."

"Make it faster David. I have a hunch that we may have found them." He ended the call abruptly as the helicopter circled back around and hovered over the structure. The east side was completely shrouded in darkness now and as Don watched, the helicopter focused a large spotlight over the area, illuminating the dark shadows.

**000000000000000000000**

At seven-fifteen Charlie pulled out his wallet and removed a few bills to pay for his dinner; laying a couple of dollar bills on the table for Jessica as he clamored to his feet. The diner had become really crowded and the cacophony of sounds had become a little overwhelming; from the clatter of utensils to the boisterous voices of the patrons Charlie realized that even if Don had joined him they would have had trouble hearing one another anyway. He threaded his way through the crowded diner to get to the counter and barely sidestepped a waitress carrying a stack of dirty dishes as he took his place in line to pay the bill.

"Professor Eppes?"

Charlie glanced over his shoulder and met Jessica's gaze. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm working here tomorrow night and Friday too. I mean…just in case your brother….you know…..can join you for dinner."

She had such a hopeful look on her face that Charlie couldn't help but smile. "I'll keep that in mind Jessica but I can't make any promises."

"That's okay, I understand." Jessica's smile returned and with a wave of her hand she turned aside to take another order.

Charlie hurriedly paid his bill and strode out the door. Dusk was falling as he made his way through the parking lot to his car and he cast an apprehensive glance in the direction that Don would have been traveling in. His brother had failed to make an appearance or even contact him and now Charlie wasn't sure what he should think; should he be worried or was this the new Don that had surfaced during the Henderson case.

The young man was completely baffled by his brother's recent behavior; last night he had gotten the impression that Don had resented the intrusion of the NSA agents and he would have bet his life that this morning Don's reaction to his dinner invitation had been genuine, that Don had really wanted to get together and work out their differences. But if that were true then why hadn't he shown up or at least phoned him to cancel their dinner; Don had truly become an enigma to him.

Charlie's shoulders slumped as he slid into the driver's seat of his Prius; he brought both hands up and massaged the back of his neck as he racked his brain trying to figure out what he had done to push his brother away. He had to find out why Don was becoming so distant and he needed to discover the reason soon before the rift between them grew too large to mend.

The young man started the engine but instead of pulling out of the parking lot he flipped open his cell phone. He had to know why his brother had missed their dinner; telling himself that Don had a good reason for not contacting him he hit the speed dial button on his phone but once again he had to leave a voice mail. Frowning, he decided to dial the FBI office and ask for Don; surely his brother had been called out on a case and that was the reason he had failed to make an appearance or had the time to contact him.

The phone only rang once before it was answered by a female receptionist. "Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"I'd like to speak with Special Agent Don Eppes please." Charlie listened with bated breath while he waited for her response; hoping that she would either put him through to his brother or tell him that he was on a case and couldn't be disturbed.

"Special Agent Eppes has left for the day. Would you like to speak with another agent?"

"No. That's okay, I'll call back tomorrow." He responded numbly, as a feeling of disappointment in Don and one of disgust in himself cut through him like a knife; he ended the call and irritably tossed the phone to the passenger seat. _"When am I going to accept the truth," Charlie thought bitterly, "and face_ _the fact that Don really doesn't want me around."_

"Fine, have it your way Don." Charlie muttered, as feelings of both hurt and anger coursed through him. He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot; he had wasted enough of his time and had to get back to CalSci to meet with the NSA agents. His analysis was complete and it was time to explain his results to them.

Although it had only taken him a few minutes to return to campus by the time he arrived there all of the street lights were fully lit. He hurriedly clamored out of his car and strode quickly toward the math building; suddenly remembering that he hadn't locked the Prius he pressed the lock button and walked backwards so that he could see the headlights flash to confirm that it had locked. Satisfied, Charlie turned back around just in time to see a large shadow loom up in front of him; too late to back pedal he slammed into the larger man with enough force to elicit grunts from both of them.

With an "oomph" Charlie bounced backwards and would have fallen if the larger man had not grabbed and pulled him into a tight embrace; although the young professor was grateful that the stranger had saved him from falling he was now fighting a growing panic from the close proximity of the man and desperately needed to put some distance between them.

"Thanks…you…can….let…go…now," he sputtered against the man's chest as he struggled to get free.

"Charlie? Did I hurt you?" A familiar voice asked fearfully. Alan released his hold but stayed within arm's reach just in case his youngest son was still trying to regain his balance.

"Dad?" Charlie managed to squeak out. "You scared me half to death."

"Sorry son," Alan apologized, "I was talking to Larry and didn't see you in time to stop."

"It's my fault Dad," Charlie replied with an apologetic grin, "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Is everything all right?" A voice behind Alan asked.

Charlie leaned around his Dad and grinned. "Everything is fine Larry. What are you guys up too?"

Relaxing, Alan shrugged his shoulders. "We thought we would grab a pizza and take it home but we wanted to see if you and Amita would like some too."

"Sorry guys, "Charlie said with a shake of his head as he edged around them, "but Amita is in a meeting and I'm on my way to meet with those two NSA agents from the other night. I've got to go, thanks for thinking of us."

"Yeah, that's what your brother said too." Alan muttered; turning away.

Charlie paused in mid-step; pivoting around on his heel he called after his Dad. "You talked to Don?"

Alan stopped and looked over his shoulder. "A little while ago but he said he had other plans and couldn't join us? "

Charlie took a tentative step forward. "Did he….ah…happen to say what he was doing?" _Maybe Don did have a good reason for not calling me," he thought hopefully._

Puzzled by all of the questions Alan turned around to face his son. "No, I just figured he and Robin had already made plans to do something else."

"What time did you talk to him?" Charlie asked, pressing for more information.

Alan took a step closer and squinted at his son's face; even in the stark light from the street lamp he could see the desperate look in his eyes. "What's this all about?"

"Please Dad it's important." Charlie pleaded.

Alan scratched his beard. "Ah…..I think it was around five-thirty."

Crestfallen, Charlie's eyes flickered to the side. His Dad had just confirmed his suspicions; Don had been fine a half an hour before their dinner engagement but had apparently made other plans without bothering to cancel theirs.

"Charlie what is going on?" Alan asked, sharing a concerned glance with Larry.

Larry shrugged, giving Alan an "I don't know" look before addressing the younger man with his own observation. "Charles you look like you've lost your best friend."

Charlie swallowed thickly and looked up; heartbroken as he accepted the fact that his earlier conclusions had been correct. The hurt in his brown eyes quickly faded to one of resolve as he made up his mind that this was the last time that he was going to let his brother hurt him.

"Nothing's going on Dad….just something that I should have faced a long time ago," he answered softly and forced a smile to his lips. "Enjoy your pizza," he said and quickly turned around; calling over his shoulder as he hurried away. "I'll see you guys later."

Larry watched him until he disappeared from view and then turned his gaze to Alan. "What do you suppose that was all about?"

Alan hunched his shoulders and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Not a clue," the older man grumbled with a heavy sigh but he vowed silently to sit his sons down and get to the bottom of it. He glanced sideways at his friend and on a lighter note changed the subject. "What do you say we go and get that pizza?"

**000000000000000000**

"Air one to 3695"

"Go ahead Air One."

Don's cell rang and he gave it a quick glance while he waited for the pilot's response. The call was from his brother but he couldn't answer it; he had to keep his focus on the situation at hand but he made a mental note to call him back later. Don felt an adrenaline rush beginning to surge within him because some how he knew what Air One was going to say. He pulled a stick of gum from his pocket and popped it into his mouth just as the pilot answered.

"A vehicle matching the suspect's car is parked next to the structure. Suspects are not in sight. Over."

A blaring of sirens and flashing lights suddenly filled the encroaching darkness and Don had to shout his response to the pilot as his team and numerous LAPD cruisers arrived on the scene.

"Air one; keep an eye on the rear of the building until we can get into position. Over."

"Roger that."

Don jumped out of his car and raced to the back of the vehicle. He was putting on his Kevlar vest when the rest of his team and several LAPD officers joined him.

"What have we got Don?" David asked breathlessly.

"Four armed gunman trapped inside that warehouse. Did you call SWAT?"

David nodded. "On their way."

"Good." He turned to Nikki. "Get in touch with the park's security and find out who owns that truck. We need to know if anyone else is in that building."

"On it boss." She started to turn away when one of the officers shouted out.

"Agent Eppes, the door is opening."

All of the agents and officers immediately dropped behind their cars for cover and trained their weapons on the door of the warehouse.

"Who's in charge?" A voice bellowed from the doorway.

"I am," Don yelled back, "Special Agent Don Eppes."

The figure moved forward and Don could make out two figures, not one; a man was being held in front of the speaker, a gun pressed against his temple.

"Stay back. If you try and come in here I will kill this man!" The gunman warned as he pressed the gun closer to the man's head.

Don could hear the desperation in his voice; this was not a good sign. He rubbed his chin nervously; he had to find some way to ease the tension. "Sir, I need you to calm down. We'll stay out here but I need to know what you want?"

"We need some time to think so back off! Just….just don't come in…or I swear…I'll kill him!" The man backed into the shadows pulling the hostage along with him and then the door slammed shut with a loud bang.

"Damn it!" Don cursed, rising to his feet. "I didn't want a hostage situation here!"

**00000000000000000**

Castle Rock is known as the Gateway to Mount St. Helens and is situated between the Cowlitz River and Interstate 5, located 134 miles south of Seattle and 63 miles north of Portland, Oregon. But of more importance to Professor Ludwig Schiller, Castle Rock was where his former student, Thomas Hill, currently resided.

Blue sky and sunshine had greeted Schiller upon his arrival in the small community of Castle Rock; the rain had finally moved on down the coast releasing its dreary hold on the people of the town. Arriving around 2:30 that afternoon he had immediately set about gathering information on his former student's activities as well as his home address which had in fact, been fairly easy considering the friendly demeanors of the local people. With that information in hand he could afford to take a little time to relax and have a meal before confronting Hill later that evening.

At seven p.m. Ludwig parked his Volvo in front of The Castle Café near the Intersection of Huntington and First; his stomach had been rumbling for the past forty-five minutes. As he stepped from his car his eyes drifted toward the town's namesake and he stared in amazement at the 190 foot volcanic rock formation resembling a castle. It towered above the small community and was still clearly visible in the waning light.

During his many years of teaching Schiller had never taken a vacation; growing up in the scientific community he had been taught that it was a frivolous waste of time and money. Besides there had always been more important things for him to work on but now as he stared at the monolith he felt a sense of loss and wished that he had taken the time to experience the simpler things in life. He had seen more of his adopted country in the past few months than he had in his entire lifetime and for the first time in his life he regretted never having taken the time to appreciate it.

The Professor's stomach suddenly growled loudly; embarrassed he quickly looked around to see if anyone else had heard him but there was no one near enough to have noticed; sighing with relief he turned and entered the restaurant. It was a quaint little eatery with small tables covered with flowery tablecloths and a vase full of fresh orange honeysuckles placed in the center of each table.

Ludwig's sense of smell was assaulted from two sources as soon as he opened the door; he found the fragrant honeysuckles quite pleasurable but it was the overwhelming aroma wafting from the kitchen that he was really interested in. Spying an empty table near a large picture window he hastily strode over to sit down; curtains matching the tablecloths had been pushed aside so that the patrons could have a clear view of the picturesque rock as they ate their meal.

He picked up a menu and immediately began to search for the meal that matched the tempting aroma.

"What can I get for you dearie?"

Ludwig's eyes drifted upward to meet those of Faye Wright; owner, cook and occasional waitress of the restaurant. She was a matronly woman in her mid-sixties; although casually dressed in a pair of jeans, sneakers and a loose fitting blouse, it was obvious to any observer that she was the person in charge. Her gray-streaked hair was wrapped neatly in a bun and her rounded figure implied that she sampled a great deal of her own cooking.

"Do you serve Chai tea my dear?" Ludwig asked hopefully.

"Of course, I'll get it for you right away." She left quickly but returned a few minutes later with a cup of steaming hot tea and placed it on the table in front of him.

"Have you had a chance to decide what you would like?"

"Ah…yes…but I'm not sure what it is," he said with an apologetic smile, "could you tell me which meal is creating that enticing aroma?"

Faye beamed at him. "That smell just happens to be my homemade ravioli and I make it every Wednesday." She leaned over; whispering conspiratorially, "It's my specialty and people have been known to come all the way from Portland just to have a plateful." She waved her hand at the empty tables. "This place will be full by seven-thirty."

"I'll take an order of ravioli please." Ludwig said quickly.

"A house salad and fresh bread comes with it too. What kind of salad dressing would you like?"

"Do you have any raspberry vinaigrette?"

"Yes, of course. I'll be right back."

Faye left immediately and true to her word returned quickly with his salad. In no time at all, his salad plate was empty and she had replaced it with the main dish. "Are you just passing through or visiting the attractions in the area?" She asked as she set a small basket of fresh bread on the table.

Ludwig buttered a slice of bread while he answered, "Actually I'm on a sabbatical." He started to take a bite and noticed her confusion. "I'm a Professor at Princeton University and I decided to take some time off to see the country."

"Well now," she replied, her eyes lighting up, "isn't it a small world. Tommy graduated from Princeton University too. Do you know Tommy Hill?"

Schiller carefully chewed his bread and then swallowed before answering; the voice in his head suddenly coming to life and ordering him to be careful. "Tommy Hill? I don't seem to recall a Tommy Hill but then I've taught a number of students over the years and I daresay that I can hardly be expected to remember the names of all of them."

Taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor Faye quickly apologized. "Oh…sorry…. that was a pretty stupid question."

"Not at all my dear." Ludwig replied soothingly; trying to put her at ease as well as cover his own tracks. He started up the conversation again but pretended that he had forgotten the man's name. "Is…ah…Mr. Hill," he glanced at her for confirmation, "up here on vacation as well?" "_Careful", the voice_ _hissed, "don't make her suspicious!"_

"Tommy is a volcanologist and he's been here for about a year studying Mount St. Helens." Faye answered, visibly relaxing as the professor's friendly manner returned.

"That's an interesting career choice." Ludwig said as he continued to eat his meal. "Do you know him well?"

"Well enough to know that he'll be in here," she paused and glanced at the clock, "in about twenty minutes to get a take-out order of my ravioli." She grinned broadly. "He hasn't missed a Wednesday night since he's been in Castle Rock."

"Really?" Ludwig asked, trying to remain calm; it wouldn't do for Hill to recognize him.

Faye turned as the door opened and two couples entered the room. "Excuse me dearie." She said and hurried to take their orders.

Schiller ate the rest of his meal quickly, determined to leave the restaurant before Hill arrived; ten minutes later he had paid his bill and was walking out of the door. Ludwig slid into the driver's seat of his car just as a jeep pulled in the parking space in front of him. As Schiller watched, Thomas Hill jumped from his car and hurried inside the restaurant. A Cheshire like grin spread across the old man's features as the voice in his head took control; it couldn't get any easier than this.

Thomas Hill strode back to his car carrying his favorite take-out dinner. Dusty, dirty and hungry from a day's work at the crater the young man was looking forward to a good meal, a hot bath and a good night's sleep. Perhaps if he hadn't been so tired he might have been more suspicious of the headlights in his rear view mirror but as it was, he paid them no mind. Unfortunately by the time he put two and two together it would be too late.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By 1__st__ Endeavor_

A/N: Thank you for your continuing interest in this story. I'd like to say a special "thank you" to those of you that have taken the time to post a review. I think you're awesome.

Chapter 9:

**Castle Rock, WA**

**Thursday 4:45 a.m.**

"Schiller…please…..don't do this!"

Thomas begged, barely managing to get the words out of his mouth; hands tied behind his back and beaten to the point where he was barely standing, he nevertheless was trying to reason with the insane man standing behind him. With trepidation he glanced at the clock on his desk and immediately began to panic. His heart began to race wildly with the realization that his own demise was imminent; fifteen minutes…..he only had fifteen minutes to live unless he could find some way to reason with his old professor.

Ludwig gazed in disdain at the injured man's back; spots of blood trailed across Tom's tee shirt where the skin had been broken during the course of his punishment. Schiller smiled smugly as he viewed his handy-work; he had become quite adept at this aspect of the sessions and had mastered the technique of delivering the most effective blows.

The voice in his head always took control during the sessions and seemed to crave this part of them; always growing stronger during the process. The sane apart of Ludwig's mind watched from a distance, cowering in the dark recesses of his brain, longing for the time when the voice would become sated once again and disappear, leaving him alone for a little while.

"I have given you the night to prove me wrong," the old professor sneered at the frantic young man, "why should I listen any further?"

"Please…I…I.. can do better…..you'll see," Thomas pleaded desperately as he tried to turn around to face his tormentor. "Please…just give me… another chance!" Weak from the constant beatings he wobbled precariously on his feet and would have fallen if Schiller hadn't grabbed his elbow to steady him.

"If you fall I will not pick you up." Ludwig warned coldly, releasing him when Tom looked over his shoulder and nodded that he understood. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked down his nose at his former student.

"Please!" Tom whispered brokenly.

"Very well." Schiller agreed arrogantly as he pulled a watch from his vest pocket and pressed the latch on the closed case. With a slight click the case opened and Ludwig glanced at the hands of the clock; his lips spread across his face in a sardonic grin as his eyes drifted to Thomas's face. "You have nine minutes…..I suggest you make the most of them."

"Ah…..ah….I know... there….is something…that I've forgotten." Thomas said, panting breathlessly while he frantically searched his mind for a solution; there was something…if he could just think of it…..if he just had a little more time…if only…and then he heard it…the first chime from the professor's pocket watch! No...it couldn't be…had he just let four minutes go by while he was thinking?

With a quick intake of breath Thomas's head whipped around to view the window; the first rays of light were beginning to cut through the darkness and as the second chime resonated ominously around the cabin he began to tremble, not from fear this time but from righteous outrage.

"No!" Thomas cried angrily, spittle flying from his mouth in his desperate attempt to reason with the man. "You are not God….you have no right to do this…you have….no right to take my life from me!"

"My dear boy, it is the Divine one that guides my hand." Ludwig replied in a haughty voice as the third chime pealed loudly. "Why is it that you all say the same thing?"

"All?" Thomas gasped in surprise. "There have been others….you've killed other people?"

"Silly boy. Of course there have been others, your fellow classmates to be exact." The professor answered lifting his head toward the heavens momentarily before meeting his captive's gaze. "Are you so arrogant that you believe you are the only one worth saving?"

The little color that was left in Thomas's face seemed to drain away at Schiller's words ; the strange glowing light in the man's eyes could only mean one thing…..he was truly dealing with a madman.

"Save?" Thomas asked incredulously, involuntarily wincing as the fourth chime echoed around the room. "Is that what you call this?"

"As I explained earlier…this is for your own good!" Ludwig replied harshly.

"You're insane!" Thomas screamed; he had nothing to lose now…..nothing he said was going to make any difference. Desperately he looked around the cabin….there had to be some way to stop Schiller…..there just had to be….he didn't want to die!

Thomas's heart was pounding so loudly that he barely heard the fifth chime but the sounds of the shell as it entered the chamber of Schiller's gun rang loud and clear in his ears. Recklessly he started to turn around to face his old professor with the hope that he couldn't pull the trigger if they were face to face but he didn't get the chance.

Thomas Hill barely heard the explosive report of the revolver before everything went black….and his lifeless body dropped to the floor.

**0000000000000000000**

**Los Angeles, CA**

**4:45 a.m.**

The constant drumming of the rain against the roof of the mobile command post was beginning to get on Don's nerves; the rain had begun sometime after midnight and was constantly changing in its intensity. At any given time the cloudburst would turn into a torrential driving rain forcing the agents and the rest of the law enforcement personnel on site to run for cover. The helicopter had long since returned to base but it had served its purpose; it was up to the ground forces now.

The hostage had been identified as Kyle Johnson, the shift supervisor for the metalworking company that leased the warehouse; he had been in the process of locking up just as the robbers rushed inside.

The SWAT team surrounded the warehouse, hugging the sides of the building in an effort to stay out of the deluge while they waited for Don's orders but they were having little success in their efforts to remain dry.

Inside the command center Don watched as Matt Li, their technician, once again brought up the thermal images of the people inside of the warehouse; four were moving about the building while one remained stationary.

"They're definitely following a pattern." Matt said, looking up to catch Don's eye. "Every hour four of the images leave the room and go to each corner of the warehouse, after twenty minutes two return to the room while the other two continue to patrol the building."

"Pull up the schematic again." The SAC ordered as David and Liz leaned over his shoulder to view the floor plan of the building; Colby and Nikki were outside with the SWAT team.

"This has got to be Jackson," David said pointing to the stationary image, "probably restrained somehow."

Liz squinted at the diagram. "Looks like he might be in a small room or office," she said, pointing out a section of the blueprint. "Here…. I think."

"That could work to our advantage," Don agreed and then pointed to the four moving images. "If we time our entrance just right we can go in when all four of them are at the farthest points from the hostage."

The door opened and they looked around as Nikki and Colby hurried inside; both were completely soaked and dripped water across the floor as they joined the rest of the team.

"The explosives are in place Don, front and back doors are wired but they're having a hell of a time trying to keep them dry." Colby said, relieved to be out of the rain. "Figure out anything yet?" he asked hopefully, pulling his goggles down so that he could get a better look at the blueprint.

"Yeah…what'ye say boss?" Nikki asked, mimicking her partner and pulling down her goggles too. "In case you haven't noticed it's a little wet out there."

"What's the matter Nikki," Don teased, "didn't LAPD teach you to handle a little rain?"

"Funny boss." The agent muttered, rolling her eyes and looking away.

Don glanced at his watch and his mood turned grim. It had been a long night with little communication with the bank robbers inside the warehouse. He figured the rain and darkness had a lot to do with their inactivity and that the demands would start coming as soon as it became daylight once again.

"Okay, listen up." The SAC ordered, pointing at the images and the blueprints as he explained the plan to his team. "At the top of every hour the gunmen are at these four points leaving our hostage alone…here." he said, moving his finger to the stationary thermal image, "that will be the optimal time for us to breach the building. David and Colby will take half of the SWAT team through the rear doors and once inside split off into two groups, each group will target one of the gunmen. Liz and I will take the rest of the SWAT team, enter through the front door and target the two gunmen near the front of the warehouse. Nikki," Don said, catching her eye, "will make a beeline for the hostage. Any questions?" He glanced from agent to agent, when no one offered any he checked the time again.

"Let's synchronize our watches for entry at 5:00 a.m." Don set the alarm on his watch and adjusted his ear mike. "I think that we will take them by surprise, they're probably expecting us to wait until morning since we haven't tried anything all night." Absently Don pulled a fresh stick of gum from his pocket and popped it into his mouth; without even realizing it he had just given a signal to his team that he was ready to move. He grabbed an assault rifle, checked the ammo then headed for the door; the rest of his team following closely behind him.

"Let me know right away if they haven't moved to those positions by five." Don ordered the technician before opening the door.

"Yes sir." Matt responded keeping his eyes glued to the thermal energy screen.

"All right. Let's do this." He pushed open the door and stepped out into the pouring rain keeping his weapon pointed downward and ran as fast as he could to the warehouse. The agents huddled against the building while a member of the SWAT team rigged a shield of plastic over an explosive device on the door in an effort to keep it dry; he turned a few minutes later and gave Don a thumbs up to signal that it was ready.

Don pressed the button on his radio. "David is your team ready?"

"Door is rigged and ready to blow on your order Don." David confirmed from the rear of the building.

Suddenly a loud crack of thunder rumbled overhead drowning out the agent's answer. Don looked skyward and hoped the thunder would be loud enough to cover the sounds of the explosions.

"Say again David," he ordered and a second later acknowledged that he had received the message. Don pressed a button on is watch so that it would light up; two minutes until dawn.

"3695 to command center. Over."

"Go ahead 3695."

"Have the gunmen moved into position? Over."

"They are moving Agent Eppes. They are still following the pattern and will be in position in …fifty-five seconds…forty…..thirty-five."

"Roger that." Don said shifting his body to get in a better position.

Matt continued with the countdown. "Ten seconds….nine...eight….seven...six...five...four….three...two."

Don's finger was on his radio button and as soon as the technician hit the one second mark he immediately gave the go ahead order.

"Execute, execute, execute!" he yelled over the noise of the rain.

The explosion was immediate, blowing the door open on its hinges. The SWAT team rushed through with the agent's right behind them. Once inside, Liz lead her team to the left and Don took his to the right while Nikki and another officer hurried off to find the hostage.

The SAC and the two officers with him hurried through the warehouse as quietly as they could. Fortunately for them the gunmen had kept the lights on within the building making it easier for them to maneuver between the stacks of boxes and equipment. Everything remained quiet so apparently the thunder and heavy rain hitting the roof had masked the noise from the explosion and the gunmen were still unaware of the breach.

Don turned a corner but quickly ducked back; his target was walking just ahead of him, facing in the opposite direction. He took a peak through the aisle and noticed that the man had changed directions and was now walking toward him. Turning quickly, he signaled for the officers to work their way down the next aisle to take up a position behind the man and catch him in crossfire. When they were in position Don jumped out and shouted. "F B I. Drop your weapons!"

Taken by surprise the robber turned intending to run but paused in mid-step at the sight of the assault rifles that the two SWAT members had pointed at him.

"There's nowhere to run." Don said in a lower tone of voice. "Drop your weapon if you want to live."

A loud clatter followed as the man's rifle hit the floor, followed a few seconds later by his handgun.

Don moved closer, gun still held at the ready. "Down on your knees! I said, get down on your knees!"

As the robber complied one of the officers rushed forward and cuffed the man's hands behind his back.

One down and three to go Don muttered out loud as he lowered his rifle. He heard Liz shouting "FBI" and turned in her direction just as shouts and gunfire erupted from the other side of the warehouse.

Ordering one officer to remain with the prisoner and the other one to come with him, Don rushed toward the gunfire but by the time he had made it to Liz's side the other bank robbers had been subdued and everything was under control. Don's plan had worked brilliantly; only one casualty had occurred and it turned out to be one of the gunmen that had decided to fight it out instead of surrendering. Kyle Johnson was uninjured except for a few bruises and was anxious to go home but Don insisted that he be checked out by a paramedic first. To Johnsons dismay however, the medic wanted him to have some x-rays taken to be certain that his ribs were not broken; apparently Kyle had put up quite a struggle when the robbers had forced their way in.

All in all, things had worked out pretty well and as the ambulance left with the hostage, the first vestiges of daylight could be seen working its way through the rainclouds.

Don scrubbed a hand through his wet hair as he stood in the doorway of the warehouse; having just relinquished control of the crime scene to the LAPD, he and his team were now free to leave. He scanned the faces of the agents and could see the telltale signs of exhaustion in their eyes and hear it in their voices; they needed rest and it was time to send them home.

"Listen up guys." He said tiredly. "I want you to go home and get some rest but I need your 302's for this case on my desk before eight o'clock tonight"

He didn't get any argument but as they started to move out David suddenly turned to him. "What about you Don….are you still going in?"

Don grinned and shook his head tiredly. "No, not until I get into some dry clothes and get some sleep."

"I hear that," Liz muttered emphatically as she stepped out into the rain, "I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Yeah. See ya." Nikki seconded as she hurried to catch up with her partner.

Don, David and Colby stepped from the protection of the building and slowly made their way to their cars. All three of them were already soaked to the skin and figured that a little more rain wasn't going to hurt them besides they were too tired to go any faster.

With a "see you later" the agents went their separate ways and headed for home. Robin's car was still in the parking lot when Don pulled in and he glanced at the time on his dashboard; it was six thirty and she would already be up and getting dressed for work.

He sloshed through the rain to get to his apartment and slowly made his way upstairs. Once inside he slipped out of his wet shoes and peeled off his soaked socks; leaving his shoes on the mat he headed for the bathroom.

"You look like a drowned rat."

Don paused and turned toward the kitchen. Robin was leaning against the door frame looking him over with an appraising eye.

"Yeah, I feel like one too," he agreed with a crooked smile, "but you look great." Don took a step toward her but she put up a hand to ward him away.

"Stop right there mister," she warned him with a grin, "I am not going to change my suit; keep your distance fellow."

Don tried to feign disappointment but a yawn caught up to him mid-sentence. "Is that….any way to treat... a special agent?"

Robin stepped within arm's reach and cupped his cheek, a worried frown replacing her smile. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he assured her, "just in need of some dry clothes and some sleep, that's all."

She smiled and nodded toward the bathroom. "Go and take a nice hot shower, you'll sleep better." Robin leaned forward, careful not to touch his wet clothes, and kissed him lightly on the lips, adding in a teasing tone of voice. "I'll tuck you in before I leave."

"Promise." he whispered huskily, bringing his arms up to pull her closer.

"Promise," she said as she quickly stepped out of reach. "Now go."

With an exaggerated sigh Don shuffled down the hallway and quickly removed his wet clothing. As Robin had predicted the hot shower loosened up his tense muscles and twenty minutes later he climbed between the warm covers of his bed and immediately began to fall asleep. He felt a kiss on his cheek and his eyes drifted open.

"I'll call you later." Robin said softly in his ear and with a slight nod his eyes began to close once again.

"I hope that you and Charlie had a chance to talk before you were called out on that robbery." She said over her shoulder as she headed for the door. "I know how important that was to you."

Don didn't hear the door click shut but as sleep began to claim him something she said struck a chord and his eyes opened wide with a start.

"Charlie!" he whispered his brother's name with a groan; he'd forgotten all about their dinner plans once the chase had begun. Bleary-eyed he glanced at the clock on his nightstand and decided that he should call and apologize but exhaustion overcame him and his body had no choice but to surrender. Don's last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep were that he would call Charlie later and offer an apology for his absence.

**0000000000000000000**

Charlie glanced out the window and grimaced; it didn't look like the rain was going to let up anytime soon so with a sigh he turned around to pick up Amita's suitcase.

"Are you sure you didn't forget something?" he snorted sarcastically as he picked up the heavy bag.

"What?" Amita asked as she entered the room. "Did you say something?"

"Ah…..I was just wondering if you had everything," he said and then a mischievous twinkle lit up his brown eyes. "I thought you might want to put the proverbial "kitchen sink" in here as well."

"That's funny Charlie," she replied laughingly, "but I thought that you might need it more than me."

"Ha ha." he said, pulling her close for a kiss. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too." She whispered, hugging him tightly.

"We'd better get going." Charlie said with a sigh, reluctant to release her. "It's going to take a few trips to the car with all of this stuff, especially in this downpour. "

"At least we can leave right from school tonight; I won't have to come home for anything." Amita said, checking around for items that she might have forgotten to pack. Satisfied that she had everything, she grabbed her computer bag, purse and raincoat and followed Charlie down the stairs.

Regardless of their umbrellas and raincoats, they were both wet by the time they were settled in the Prius. Charlie started the engine and began to pull out when he noticed Amita shifting around in her seat.

"What's wrong?" he asked, bringing the car to a standstill.

"I'm sitting on something," she said, using her hand to feel the seat beneath her. "Ah ha!" Amita said suddenly; holding her hand up victoriously revealing the object. "I think you might need this later." She started to hand it to him but frowned when she tried to turn it on. "Charlie I think your battery is dead."

"Damn," He said, remembering how he had tossed the phone to the seat after his failed attempt to get in touch with his brother the night before. "I forgot I had left it there."

Dismissing the phone Charlie pulled out of the driveway and merged with the growing traffic on the street. A loud rumble overhead lead to another deluge and he had to turn his wipers on faster in order to keep up with the water on the windshield.

"I'll take your phone with me Charlie," Amita offered. "I have a charger in my office so I'll plug it in as soon as I get there and that way you'll be able to use your phone later on."

Charlie glanced sideways at her and smiled. "Thanks, I'd appreciate that."

"Is something wrong?" She asked, sensing a sudden melancholy in his tone of voice. "How did your dinner with Don go last night?" Charlie's meeting with the NSA agents had run late and she had been asleep when he had finally arrived home.

Charlie kept his eyes on the road as he answered quietly. "Don didn't show up."

Puzzled, she twisted around to get a better look at him. "You mean he called and cancelled your dinner?"

"No," Charlie replied irritably, "I mean he didn't call or show up."

"That doesn't sound like Don." Amita said, trying to come up with an explanation for the agent's behavior. "Something must have come up. I'm sure he'll call and explain it to you today."

"I called the FBI last night and they said he had left for the day." He shrugged his shoulders as if it didn't matter to him. "Dad spoke to him around five-thirty and invited him for Pizza but Don told him he already had plans so I guess he and Robin must have decided to do something."

"Oh," she said disappointedly, suddenly at a loss for words.

"It's okay," he said softly in an effort to convince her that it really didn't matter."You're right, I'm sure he has a logical explanation for not calling_." Just like he had one for his behavior a couple of weeks ago….whatever that was." He thought to himself; he was still waiting for an answer to that question._

Charlie almost missed their turn because of the downpour but at the last minute he flipped on his turn signal and drove into the CalSci parking lot. In a matter of seconds he had parked in his space and the two of them were dashing toward the Math building as fast as they could go.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By 1__st__ Endeavor_

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Spoilers: "One Hour"

Chapter 10:

_**Mount St. Helens, WA**_

**Thursday, 5:45 a.m.**

The sun was just beginning to peek over the left side of the mountain creating golden hues in the surrounding sky; a pre cursor to its imminent arrival.

Ludwig stood at the edge of Johnston Ridge, completely enthralled as the morning light lit up the dark crater of the volcano. The side of the ridge facing him had blown out sideways and then the top had collapsed into a huge landslide that had roared down into the valley destroying everything in its path. All of the soil had been scrubbed away right down to the bedrock exposing the deep grooves that had been cut into it from the bottom to the top. Grooves that had been made by huge boulders scraping against the bedrock as they were propelled up and over the top of the ridge

Johnston Ridge is the first ledge out and stands three miles from the mountain but the fog immersed valley that lay between them gave one the impression that you could step from the ridge right onto the mountainside. Ludwig gazed in awe at the sight; it all felt surreal to him, like it was an optical illusion and that in reality the crater was as close as it appeared to be. He had the distinct impression that if he stretched out his arm he could actually touch it. Mesmerized by the impressive sight he took a step closer to the edge and raised his arm in an attempt to reach the distant crater. Suddenly a cool wind blew across the ridge breaking the spell the mountain had put over him and with a gasp Schiller jumped back from the edge of the precipice.

Shivering, Ludwig stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and stared at the daunting mountain. He could end it all here; it was a distant thought, but nevertheless one that crossed his mind as he viewed the open expanse between the ridge and the crater. Sometimes when the voice was absent he would lament his actions and mourn the young lives that had been cut short by his hand. Schiller squeezed his eyes shut; he could still see and hear Thomas Hill pleading for his life and the memory sickened him. Tears slid down his cheeks as he remembered his former students; Yang, Mendoza, Crandall, Regan, Brogan, Leavens and Hill. Seven remarkable minds …..lost forever…..gone from this earth by his decree.

With a trembling hand he pulled a folded photograph from his pocket and opened it; smoothing it out against his chest so that he could see it clearly. Ludwig gazed mournfully at the young, smiling faces of his former students; red x's now marked the faces of all of the students in the first row…..save one. Charles Edward Eppes, the youngest one in the class. Ludwig remembered how the academic community had embraced the boy with high expectations and that the young man had indeed made some remarkable discoveries.

Ludwig's other hand absently closed around the vial of medication that he kept in his pocket but as soon as he realized what he was doing he let it go; the voice didn't like it when he thought about the pills and would come back if he held on to them for very long. The truth was the voice was present most of the time and it was a rare moment, like now, when he had a chance to be alone; he wanted to savor the peace as long as he could.

Schiller wiped his eyes and looked toward the mountain and an unexpected feeling of calmness settled over him. Staring at the majestic but now silent volcano he suddenly felt a kinship with it; they were alike, weren't they? Thirty years ago Mount St. Helens had erupted with a force of 24 megatons of thermal energy, destroying everything in its path and a little less than an hour ago he had been a force to contend with as well… …just like the volcano when it blew.

He tilted his head to the side as he tracked the path of destruction; in the aftermath of the explosion life had proven its resiliency. Grasses, small shrubs and wildflowers dotted the mountainside and although the very ridge where he was standing had once been buried deep in ash it was now covered with a mass of bright red wildflowers. Another cool breeze blew across the ridge but instead of feeling colder he felt a sense of peace as he watched the wildflowers ripple in the wind. It was as if God was telling him that he had forgiven the volcano and serenity had once again settled over the mountain.

Suddenly Ludwig winced as the voice returned but this time its words were soothing and a smile played across his lips. "_Good will come from your deeds too," it whispered insidiously, "the violence of your actions will fade away, just like here, and people will not only see the good that you have accomplished but also the sacrifices that you have endured to see them through." _

The tenseness left his body then and he began to relax with the knowledge that he was a force for good and that his cause was a righteous one. Ludwig yawned widely and headed down the hilly slope to the parking lot of the observation center. He was so tired that he decided to go back to the motel and get some sleep before beginning his long drive back to Los Angeles.

**0000000000000**

**Los Angeles, Ca**

**Thursday afternoon**

The thunder cracked loudly overhead and Charlie glanced upward as the lights around the auditorium flickered, dimmed and then suddenly went out. A simultaneous gasp and then the sound of anxious voices erupted echoing around the darkened hall.

"Stay in your seats," he ordered loudly in an attempt to be heard over the students and the sound of the rain hammering against the roof."The generator should engage momentarily."As if on cue some of the lights flickered then brightened and although many of them still remained dark he had enough light to finish the session.

Charlie smiled broadly at the students and motionedtoward the whiteboard behind him. "We still have some time left people so let's get back to Advanced Number Theory."

Twenty minutes later the students were gathering their bags and hurrying off to their next classes. Charlie followed at a slower pace and stood back under the covered walkway hoping for a lull in the storm. He glanced at his watch and sighed; accepting the fact the he had no other choice he raised his book bag over his head and dashed out into the rain. Although he ran quickly his shoes and blazer were still soaked by the time he made it to his office so once inside he quickly shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over a chair. He made a trip to the rest room and grabbed a few paper towels to run through his wet curls and then used a few more to dry off his shoes but there was nothing he could do for the wet blotches on his pants and shirt.

He returned to his office and switched on the lights only to find that only a few of them were working which meant that they were still running on the school's generator. During an emergency the generated power was distributed sparingly to each section to ensure that everyone would have electricity; limited power was better than no power at all.

"Charles."

The young professor turned and smiled at the familiar voice. "Hey Larry."

"I brought lunch," Larry said, holding up two paper bags, "You haven't eaten yet have you?"

With a shake of his head Charlie joined Larry on the leather couch and quickly opened one of the bags. He graced his friend with a smile as he pulled out a plastic container filled with a salad and a bottle of cold water.

"Thanks Larry," he said around a mouthful of salad, "how did you know?"

Larry swallowed some water before answering. "I checked your schedule and figured that you didn't have time to eat yet."

"I didn't realize how hungry I was," Charlie admitted, "but I only have a half an hour, my next class is at 2:30."

"I know." Larry said, taking a bite of his salad. "Oh, by the way, Alan has been trying to reach you. He finally gave up and called me."

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. "I left my phone in the car last night and ran the battery down so I'm without phone service until it's recharged again." He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth; his brows knitting together in puzzlement. "I stopped by the office this afternoon and I haven't received any messages from him or anyone else for that matter."

"We're you expecting a call from anyone special?" Larry asked noting the bitter tone in his friend's voice.

Charlie viciously stabbed a tomato and mumbled. "Not really, I just thought Don might have called, that's all."

Larry's eyebrows shot up at the force his friend had used to fork the tomato; clearly he was dealing with a lot of frustration. "Is everything all right with you two? I only ask because you appear to be…..dare I say….a little annoyed with him."

Charlie's eyes flickered to the side before he looked back to meet Larry's gaze. "I honestly don't know what to think Larry." He looked down at his salad and absently stirred it with his fork as he spoke. "Don was supposed to meet me for dinner last night but didn't show up or even call to say that he couldn't make it."

"That sounds odd, even for Don." Larry replied, clearly puzzled by the agent's behavior.

"You know it's not like I wouldn't understand if he and Robin decided to go out last night," Charlie said defensively, abruptly shoving his salad container back into the bag," but would it have killed him to let me know that he had changed his mind."

"Perhaps something came up at work." Larry suggested, trying to rationalize the situation.

"I don't think so Larry." Charlie said suddenly rising to his feet; striding across the room he tossed the bag into the trash can. He turned around and leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms as he added. "I called the FBI office last night and they said that he had left for the day."

"Oh dear." The older professor replied softly, noting with concern the hurtful expression on his young friends face.

Charlie rubbed his chin thoughtfully and sighed. "I truly don't know where we stand right now. I thought we were good… you know… but ever since the Henderson Case it's like I'm just some resource to be used, a…a. necessary evil that he needs to consult with in order to close a case."

"Charles!" Larry admonished incredulously. "You truly don't believe that?"

Charlie blushed and looked away, shaking his head slightly. "No…of course not…I..I….don't really believe that he feels that way." He glanced at his watch and hurriedly put on his blazer, bringing the discussion to an end. "I've got to go Larry, thanks for lunch."

"Oh Charles I almost forgot to tell you that Alan wanted to know if you would be home for dinner tonight?"

The young man paused with one hand on the door and glanced back over his shoulder. "Tell Dad that I'm taking Amita to the airport around seven and that we plan to have dinner somewhere along on the way." He opened the door and called over his shoulder. "Don't forget to lock up."

Larry watched him leave and then his eyes drifted toward the window just as another thunderous roar echoed overhead; almost simultaneously the skies seemed to open up even more as a deluge of rain smashed against the windows.

"Oh my, how does that old saying go?" he mused out loud, rubbing a spot on his forehead which he often did when something was troubling him, "when it rains, it pours."

**00000000000000000**

Rain darkened the skies as Don drove through the wet streets of Los Angeles. The windshield wipers were keeping a steady beat to the constant throbbing in his skull and he fervently hoped that the aspirins he had taken before leaving his apartment would soon kick in. It seemed later than 3:30 and he was still finding it difficult to believe that he had slept most of the day away. His team basically had the day off to recover from the all-night ordeal at the warehouse and Don had only made one requirement of them; that they come in and file their respective reports on the night's events.

The FBI building loomed up ahead; flicking on his turn signal he changed lanes and steered the SUV into the FBI parking garage. The first level was already full but on the second one he spotted an empty space next to a familiar car. Rainwater was still dripping down the sides of Sinclair's bright red jeep as he pulled alongside of it and he couldn't contain a grin as he realized that David had just arrived too. Cautiously he slid out of the driver's seat in an effort to avoid the water from his car as well as Sinclair's and made his way to the main entrance.

Don looked around as he entered the lobby of the building and spotted the African-American agent picking up his gun and badge from the security conveyor belt.

"Hey David." Don called to him as he emptied his own pockets and piled his things in a basket for the security guards.

"Don." The agent nodded and waited for the SAC to go through the security process and collect his things.

"It's a mess out there." Don commented unnecessarily as they walked toward the elevators.

"No kidding." David huffed sarcastically. "I was hoping it would clear up by this evening because Valerie and I had plans to go to the beach."

"Good luck with that." Don chuckled.

"Yeah…yeah, I know. You don't have to rub it in"

The older agent shrugged, his grin broadening. "I'm just saying….."

"Spare me….please." David muttered as they stepped aboard the elevator and pushed the button for their floor.

The elevator ascended but opened almost immediately on the next floor. The two agents quickly stepped to the rear as it began to fill up; some of the people that came on board were visibly wearing the effects of the day's torrential downpour and the two agents tried to stand as far away from them as possible.

"I need a cup of coffee." Don mumbled as soon as the door opened on their floor. He had only taken a few steps when he was forced to swerve to the side of the aisle when another agent rushed by to catch the elevator before it left.

David wasn't so lucky; he was following too closely behind Don and didn't have enough time to step aside and bumped head on into the man. "Hey, watch out Nathan!" he cried jumping back. Unfortunately the other agent was completely soaked from the rain and shared a good deal of the water with him when they collided.

After apologizing profusely Nathan took his leave and raced toward the elevator, barely catching the doors before they closed.

David tried to shake out his sweatshirt and wipe some of the water from his jeans but it did little good. With a rueful look he glanced up at Don. "At least I didn't wear a suit today."

"You can keep all of that to yourself." Don snickered, making sure that they stood far enough apart so that his clothes remained dry.

"You're all heart Don." David said dryly as they entered the break room.

Don chuckled as they filled their cups and headed for their cubicles. As he sat down he glanced at the empty conference room containing all of the data on the Brogan case and the other victims that Charlie had said were connected. It would take several hours to complete the 302's on the robbery and the hostage situation at the warehouse so it was unlikely that they would get any work done on that case tonight; they would have to pick it up again in the morning.

David suddenly appeared at his cubicle. "Everything all right Don?"

All week long he had been getting the feeling that something was bothering his boss but hadn't been able to put his finger on it and although he didn't have any proof he had a sneaking suspicion that Charlie was somehow involved.

"I'm fine." Don answered, eyeing him warily. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know." The agent answered with a shrug." I just sort of got the impression that something was wrong between you and Charlie."

"Charlie." Don huffed. "I've left him four voice-mail's today and he hasn't even bothered to call me back once." He raised his hands in exasperation. "I don't know…we keep playing phone tag …..and….and…he's never home when I go to visit him."

David's eyebrows rose slightly. "You don't believe that he's been deliberately avoiding you, do you? He wouldn't do that Don and besides he specifically asked for you when he came in yesterday."

Don pushed his chair back and stood up so they were eye level. "I was supposed to have dinner with him last night but the robbery happened and I didn't get a chance to call him," he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away, "and I think he resents how I handled the Henderson case, that's all."

"The Henderson case?" David asked, his forehead wrinkling in puzzlement and then his expression changed to one of understanding. "Let me guess, you pushed him away again didn't you? Just like you did with the Buck Winters case."

Shrugging Don turned his attention to his laptop as he spoke. "I was trying to protect him."

"You accepted him as a member of this team Don. You just can't push him aside every time you don't like the case we're working on." David chided him. "If it were me I know I'd be pissed, especially if I thought my brother only wanted me around because of my skills."

Don's head snapped up; eyes flashing angrily. "Charlie knows better than that! He knows that I consider him a valuable member of this team and…."

"A valuable member who is always the last one to know if there is a threat to his older brother." David interjected forcefully.

Don fixed him with an angry glare and David let out a long breath as he rubbed a hand over his bald head. "Okay…fine…forget I said anything."

Before Don could respond he heard the sound of familiar voices and looked up just as Liz, Nikki and Colby came into view.

Suddenly Nikki sneezed and stopped in mid-stride with Colby coming up short behind her.

"Keep your distance girlfriend." Colby warned in his mid-western drawl. "You can share that with someone else."

"Oh come on Idaho…..you know how much I like to share?" Nikki retorted sarcastically.

"You guys can keep that to yourselves." Liz snickered over her shoulder as she continued down the aisle.

Their frivolity subsided after they joined Don and David; noting almost immediately that they had just interrupted an argument they rushed to their cubicles without another word. Sensing that he had said too much Sinclair gave Don a nod and headed for his own desk.

"I hate it when Mom and Dad fight." Nikki muttered trying for some levity but at a glare from Don she immediately turned her attention to her report.

"I want those 302's on my desk before eight." Don ordered gruffly as he sat down and powered up his own laptop. David's words had stung, coming far too close to something that Dr. Bradford had once said to him. A feeling of dread washed over him and suddenly it became even more urgent for him to talk with his brother.

TBC

_**A/N: I appreciate your reviews. Thank you.**_


	11. Chapter 11

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By 1__st__ Endeavor_

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Chapter 11:

_**Thursday night**_

_**Los Angeles Intl Airport**_

Charlie darted into a vacant space in front of the LAX Central Terminal Area and immediately put on his flashers; he popped the hatch on the Prius before clamoring out to grab Amita's bag and hauling out her suitcase. He slammed the hatch closed and paused just long enough to stretch the handle out so the bag could be pulled along behind him and quickly joined his wife in front of the main entrance.

"Here," he said, handing off the suitcase to her, "you go ahead and check in with the airline and I'll join you as soon as I park the car."

Amita nodded and brushed his lips with a kiss. "I'll see you inside."

Charlie watched her walk away; his eyes lingering on her until she was safely inside and then he jumped back into the Prius. A few seconds later he merged with the busy traffic in front of the airport. There was still a steady rain but at least it wasn't the torrential downpours that they had experienced earlier in the day. Still, it was enough to make it difficult for him to see the turn for Sepulveda Boulevard and he barely had time to switch lanes before it came into view. After the turn he drove a couple of more blocks until he was at 96th street; flipping on his turn signal he entered Parking Lot C, the short term parking area for LAX. It took him awhile to find an empty space and just as he was convinced that he was going to have to park at the very end of the lot he spotted one. Relieved, he quickly pulled into the space and shut off the engine.

The airport provided free shuttle service from the parking lots to the terminals so Charlie grabbed his umbrella and hurried to one of the shuttle stops, carefully avoiding several large puddles along the way. It didn't take him long to find one and after only a ten minute wait he stepped on board the shuttle bus for the ride to the terminal.

Charlie had been in and out of LAX so many times that it was almost like a second home to him and so in no time at all he was striding toward the Air Trans Kiosk where Amita was checking in. He stood patiently to the side of the line and tried to stay out of the way of the multitudes of people darting to and fro while she checked her bag and picked up her boarding pass.

Amita adjusted her computer bag and turned away from the counter; she glanced around the busy terminal in search of her husband as she made her way through the throng gathered at the airline ticket counter and more than once she offered an apology when she accidentally bumped someone with her bag.

"Amita?"

She was barely able to hear him over the sounds in the terminal but somehow his soft voice cut through the noise and she hurried over to his side.

"It's really busy here tonight." Charlie commented as he took her computer bag and hung it on his shoulder. "Why are you frowning?"

"Charlie my flight has been delayed because of the storms."

"How long?" he asked, glancing up at the arrival and departure monitors displayed on the walls.

"At least two hours. They expect the last storm cell to move out by then." She gazed into his eyes and pressed her hand against his chest. "I'll understand if you want to go home; there's really no reason for you to stay with me."

Charlie tilted his head and smiled. "I want to wait with you so where would you like to go?"

"Are you sure?" She asked, her brows drawing together in concern.

"I'm sure." He replied firmly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Charlie glanced around the terminal until his eyes settled on a Starbucks. "I read that you can get a Chai latte at Starbucks now," he said, as his eyes drifted back to meet hers, "want to check it out?"

"Yeah," Amita responded with a grin. "That sounds good."

Ten minutes later they were slurping their lattes at a small table outside of Starbucks. Charlie gazed about the busy terminal; a constant flow of people continued to move through the airport but there were also a great number of them that had opted to get more comfortable while they waited. These people had apparently resigned themselves to a long wait and were sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall and were passing the time by working on their laptops, listening to their I-phones and either texting or talking on their cell phones. The sight of the cell phones reminded him that Amita had taken his that morning to charge it.

"Amita do you still have my phone?"

She stopped in mid-slurp and set down her cup. "Oh," she said as she opened her purse and began to paw through it, "I'm sorry, I meant to give it to you earlier.

"That's okay," he said quickly in an effort to keep her from getting upset. "We left in a hurry and I didn't even think about it until now."

"Here it is," she said waving it jubilantly in the air. "All charged and ready for your use Professor Eppes."

Charlie grinned leaning forward. "Professor Eppes thanks Professor Eppes for her thoughtfulness."Amita giggled and gave him a kiss as he took the phone from her hand.

"I hate to see how many messages I have to answer." He muttered with a grimace as he hit the power button on the phone.

"Let that be a lesson to you Professor." Amita commented in a teasing tone. "Always make sure your phone if fully charged."

Charlie rolled his eyes at her and glanced back at the phone but his grin turned to a frown as he pushed the power button once again. "It won't turn on."

Clearly puzzled, Amita leaned forward. "I don't understand, it was plugged in all day and should be completely charged by now."

"Well," he snorted softly, "for some reason it didn't take the charge."

"But it said that it was charging after I plugged it in."

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. "It might have started but for some reason it…" He stopped suddenly and met her eyes just as she came to the same conclusion.

"The power outage!" They cried simultaneously.

"That has to be it." Charlie said smugly, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

"I'm sorry." Amita apologized. "I should have checked it but I was so busy that I didn't even think about it."

Charlie glanced at her in surprise. "Hey, it's not your fault that the outlet wasn't connected to the generator." He shoved the phone in his jacket pocket. "Don't worry about it; I'll plug it in as soon as I get home tonight."

She took his hand in hers and their eyes locked. "Be sure that you do because I plan on calling you tomorrow."

Charlie leaned in for a kiss and then whispered in her ear. "In that case I'll make sure that I don't forget to charge it."

Amita giggled and leaned forward for another kiss just as a flight's arrival was announced over the airport's P.A. system. The sudden announcement was a stark reminder of where they were and what they were doing prompting both Charlie and Amita to pull back and glance around the terminal in embarrassment. Their worries were groundless however since no one seemed to notice the two young lovers sitting at the Café's table.

Charlie cleared his throat and looked away trying to desperately to clear his mind of what he would really like to be doing at that moment; noting Amita's flushed cheeks confirmed that she was feeling the same way. Unfortunately this confirmation only made it more difficult for him to keep his distance.

"Ah…..since we have so much time on our hands," he said, sighing heavily, "why don't we review your presentation?"

"Might be a good idea." She agreed and hastily unzipped her laptop case.

The time seemed to pass quickly for them as they went over her notes and all too soon for Charlie she had to leave. He waved good-by as she passed through security and hurried outside to catch a shuttle to take him back to the parking lot.

The rain had finally stopped and as Charlie pulled out of the parking lot the distinctive white "Theme Building" came into view. It had been built to resemble a flying saucer that had landed on its four legs and a restaurant was suspended beneath two intersecting glowing blue arches that form the legs. At the sight of the "Encounter" restaurant he made a mental note to make dinner reservations for them on Sunday when Amita returned. One of the restaurant's specialty dinners was lobster bisque, his personal favorite, and he had a feeling that she would like it as well. Adding to the atmosphere was the fact that the restaurant offered a sweeping view of the airport that gave one the impression of actually sitting inside of a spaceship and he was sure that she would enjoy that part of the dining experience too.

At midnight Charlie flicked on his turn signal and pulled into his driveway. His eyes drifted skyward as he climbed out of the car and felt a feeling of relief wash over him at the sight of the twinkling stars far above him. The lights were already out in the guest house so he strolled quietly up the sidewalk so he wouldn't wake up his Dad.

Charlie's shoulders drooped wearily as he locked the door behind him; he stood in the foyer and for the first time in a long time felt alone. The house seemed empty without Amita's presence and he realized how lonely the next two days were going to be without her.

He shrugged out of his jacket as he made his way up the stairs and tossed it over a chair in their bedroom. After a trip to the bathroom he undressed, turned out the light and crawled beneath the covers. Sleep pulled heavily at his eyelids as he turned on his side and wrapped his arms around Amita's pillow; the scent of her perfume had a soothing effect on him and he started to drift to sleep. Suddenly his eyes popped open as the memory of his promise to charge the cell phone came to mind and with a groan he tossed off the covers and slowly crawled out of the bed.

Charlie fumbled through his jacket pocket and retrieved his phone before crossing the hallway to his old bedroom. He pulled open his desk drawer and searched through the contents until he found his phone charger and then attached it to his cell phone. He plugged it into the wall outlet and waited until the familiar "battery recharging" message appeared and then returned to his bedroom.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he stretched out on the soft mattress and pulled the covers over his tired body. Once again he rolled over on his side and loped an arm across Amita's pillow as if she were there. He breathed in her scent and whispered "I miss you" just before sleep finally claimed him.

**0000000000000000**

**Midnight**

Sacramento, CA

Bleary-eyed Ludwig stared up at the blinking red vacancy sign in front of the dilapidated motel. The large Florissant sign lit up a sparsely occupied parking area which would certainly lend credence to the "vacancy" advertisement. Its bright light had caught his eye from I-5 and the convenient location to the exit had lured him there but it was the two gas stations across the street from him that had really made up his mind to stop; unfortunately they were both closed and his gas gauge was getting dangerously low. Although the "voice" was reluctant in accepting that as a reason for stopping even it had to submit to the effects of fatigue and exhaustion; the human body could only go so long without rest and nourishment.

The Frontier Motel had certainly seen better days but then he wasn't planning on staying very long. He just needed a few hours sleep; another six hours on the road and he would be back in Los Angeles.

Ludwig climbed out of his car and stretched his stiff and sore back muscles. He glanced around as he closed the door and began to feel a little uneasiness about the remote location of the motel. He swallowed hard as his hand slipped into his jacket pocket; the familiar feel of the revolver combined with the knowledge that he really couldn't drive any further propelled his feet forward.

It was a quiet night and even the sounds of the gravel beneath his shoes seemed unusually loud. Occasionally the sound of a car speeding by on the interstate would break up the silence but that was a brief interruption and then once again only the noise of his footsteps could be heard. As he got to the door Ludwig realized that he had left the car unlocked so he turned and pressed the lock key on his remote; the horn beeped and the lights flashed twice assuring him that he had locked the car.

Ludwig cautiously entered the office and scanned the room for an attendant. A TV was blaring behind the counter and as he moved closer a man came into view. An old lounge chair had been strategically placed in front of the TV and was now in full reclining mode bearing the limp form of a middle-aged man. Dressed in a dirty gray tee shirt and ratty jeans the man's loud snores were drowning out the sounds emoting from the TV set.

Ludwig hit the bell on the counter but the sleeping man continued to snore. Irritably, he closed his fist and pounded on the counter top shouting: "Hey mister! Wake up, I'd like a room!"

The man snorted and his head lolled toward the stranger's voice; opening his eyes he stared at the angry man on the other side of the counter. An empty wine bottle dropped from his hand as he pushed the lever on the chair to lower his feet.

"Hold yer horsesss," he muttered, slurring his words. Rising slowly from the chair he staggered over to the counter and leaned his elbow on the top of it to hold his head up.

"Kinda late, ain't it mister?"He mumbled, blinking to clear the vision in his rummy eyes.

"That is very observant of you," Ludwig replied sarcastically, "and is precisely the reason that I am even standing in your establishment." His eyes drifted over the dirty countertop and he took a step backwards in an attempt to stay at a safe distance.

The clerk scratched his grizzled chin and stared blankly at Schiller; the insult going completely over his head.

"The room!" Ludwig hissed vehemently.

"Ah….right." The clerk answered fumbling beneath the counter. He threw a handful of keys on the countertop and met Ludwig's eyes briefly before glancing away; there was something about the man that made him nervous "Take yur pic, they're all empty."

"Very well." Schiller replied in a haughty voice. "I'll take number seven."

"Cash only…don't take none of them cridit cards."

"Very well," Ludwig said, pulling out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

The clerk rubbed his chin as he eyed the professor's wallet and for the first time took in his well dressed attire; glancing sideways he noted the Volvo parked outside and decided that he could get a little extra money from the man.

"Thet'll cost yue a hundurd buks." He replied in an eager voice; his eyes alight with anticipation.

Ludwig paused in the process of pulling out the money. "A hundred dollars?" he asked, breaking into laughter.

The clerk tried to gain an air of authority by straightening up and adjusting his tee shirt. "Thass what I sed." He raised a quivering chin defiantly and added. "Yu can take it….or leve it." He tried to match the glare that had appeared in the professors eyes but suddenly fearful he took a step back from the counter.

Schiller gazed down his nose at the wretched man and his eyes hardened as the "voice" took control.

"Considering the condition of this office," he said disdainfully, "I can only imagine what the room looks like so therefore I will "take" the room and "leave" fifty dollars for its use."

"Hey," the clerk sputtered in protest, "yu cant do thet…the reglr price is sixty five buks." His eyes widened suddenly and his hand flew to cover his mouth as he realized what he had said.

Ludwig sneered and casually tossed two twenty's and a ten on the countertop. "Your unscrupulous behavior is appalling. I suggest that you take what I have offered before I report you to the authorities."

The clerk broke out in a sweat and couldn't meet Schiller's icy stare. He lowered his gaze to the countertop and with a trembling hand seized the key and with his eyes still downcast held it out for the professor.

"Good." Ludwig said arrogantly snatching the key from the man's hand. He turned abruptly for the door but called over his shoulder as he opened it. "Perhaps you will think twice before you try to cheat another traveler."

Schiller hurried to his car and drove to the space reserved for Unit seven. As he gathered up his suitcase and laptop his gaze fell upon the satchel. Ludwig swallowed thickly, tasting bile as he contemplated the bag; should he bring it in or leave it in the car?

"It stays with us!" The voice hissed suddenly in his mind and his hand reflexively closed around the handle; pulling the bag from the car he shut the door and pressed the automatic lock button on his remote.

"I overpaid the damn bastard." He muttered heatedly as he closed the door of the motel room behind him. The room was sparsely furnished and there was an odor in the room that suggested it hadn't been aired out for quite some time. A full size bed was in the middle of the room and a small dresser stood in one corner; a small lamp set in the middle of the dresser was flickering as if it were going to go out at any minute. Dark stains were visible on the carpet in several places and there were rust stains in the sink and bathtub.

"Oh well," the professor thought tiredly, "it will suffice for a few hours." He relieved himself and as he came out of the bathroom his eyes drifted to the lock on the door. That was the only way into the room other than a small window facing the parking lot but he dismissed it as a way of entry when he discovered the lock was rusted in the locked position. Ludwig didn't trust the lock on the door though and after another glance around the room decided to push the dresser in front of the door. Satisfied, he moved over to the bed but after only a glance decided to sleep with his clothes on; there were several stains on the bed covers that he had didn't want to touch.

Schiller pulled the revolver from his pocket and laid it next to him on the bed. He wanted to be ready in the event that someone tried to break in and rob him; he really didn't trust that little weasel in the office.

TBC

_A/N: I truly appreciate your reviews and alerts._


	12. Chapter 12

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By 1__st__ Endeavor_

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

_A/N: Thank you for your continued support and for your reviews and alerts. I truly appreciate them. A special thanks to Ms. GrahamCracker for her help with the time line._

Chapter 12:

_Los Angeles_

_Friday morning_

Charlie was halfway down the stairs before he smelled the inviting aroma wafting up the stairway. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile as he strode to the small foyer table and piled his bags and jacket on the table top; turning on his heels he headed for the kitchen to grab a much needed cup of the alluring brew.

"That smells great Dad," he said as he eagerly pushed open the swinging door, "is it ready now?"

Alan handed a full mug to his youngest and beamed. "Ready and waiting for you."

Charlie took the cup in both hands and took a sip; he closed his eyes as he savored the taste and sighed. "No one makes coffee like you Dad."

"That's quite a statement," Alan chuckled, picking up his own coffee cup, "don't let your wife hear you say that."

"Not to worry my good man." Charlie teased, his brown eyes twinkling mischievously. "She happens to agree with my assessment."

Alan grinned as he took a sip of the warm liquid. "I see and what kind of empirical evidence did you base your conclusion on?"

Charlie lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "Empirical evidence?"

"You see," the elder man said, his grin broadening, "I do listen to you when you lecture about Mathematics."

"Sometimes you listen to me when I explain a theory." Charlie corrected him with a chuckle and raised his cup for another drink but paused with it half way to his mouth when the house phone began to ring.

"I'll get it Dad." He set his mug down and hurried through the swinging door to answer the phone.

Alan followed quietly as he sipped his coffee but paused with his hand on the swinging door after overhearing snatches of the conversation.

"Hey Charlie," he called out softly, "tell Amita I said hello."

The young man turned to face him and relayed the message then listened and responded with "she says hello too."

"Why don't you come on over for breakfast before you leave?" Alan asked with a motion toward the guest house. Charlie nodded in affirmation and Alan backpedaled into the kitchen to give him some privacy; filling his cup one more time he headed for his place to start breakfast.

With an "I love you too" Charlie hung up the phone and glanced upstairs; taking the steps two by two he hurried up to his old bedroom and unplugged his cell phone. His mind had been on the day's activities and he had walked right by the room without even thinking about his phone; he had totally forgotten about it until Amita has asked him if he had remembered to charge it. He unplugged it and powered it up; fully charged now it lit up, displaying a number of missed calls. Charlie groaned inwardly as he scrolled through the endless list; shrugging his shoulders he stuffed the phone into his pocket and left the room. As he strolled toward the stairway his thoughts turned back to Amita and he wondered how he had ever gotten along without her.

Downstairs once again Charlie began to gather up his things from the foyer table when his eyes fell upon a picture of his mother; his happy mood suddenly changed to one of melancholy. Amita had been his wife for just a little more than a year and already she had become an indispensable part of his life; his eyes drifted in the direction of the guest house and he mused sadly over the heartbreak that his father must have felt at the loss of his wife after so many years of marriage. His mood sank even further when he remembered how he had lost himself in his numbers in an attempt to deal with her loss. It was with regret that he looked back on it now and wished that he had been more attentive to her during her illness and more supportive of his Dad and brother after her death.

He had been a different person then; socially awkward and more comfortable dealing with mathematical problems than personal ones. Schooled in the application of logic it had become his normal way of thinking with little regard to the emotional side of a situation. His transformation had begun in childhood when he was put in classes with kids older than him; their taunts and rejections because he was smarter than they were pushed him to seek comfort from the numbers constantly running through his head. Even his older brother had avoided being with him as much as possible although he was always there to protect him when it was necessary. Charlie had looked up to him and yearned for his love and acceptance but all Don had seen was his annoying "genius" little brother and had gone his own way as soon as they had graduated high school; different colleges, lifestyles and little contact over those years had put them in two different worlds altogether. When Don had returned because of their mother's illness they had fallen back to their old ways; the younger brother seeking acceptance and the older one pushing him away. He couldn't blame Don though, had their situations been reversed he would probably have reacted in the same way.

Charlie sighed heavily as he crossed through the laundry room to the guest house and opened the door. His eyes drifted over the pictures scattered around the room; Alan had placed a number of the old family photographs throughout the guest house along with new ones of Don and Robin and Charlie and Amita. He piled his stuff on the couch and wandered out to the kitchen where his Dad was just buttering a few pieces of toast.

"Toast and cereal okay?" Alan asked in a lighthearted voice.

"That's fine Dad." Charlie replied, pulling two glasses from the cupboard. "Do you want some orange juice this morning?"

"Yeah, that sounds good." Alan said, placing the toast on the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down as Charlie joined him with the juice filled glasses.

They filled their cereal bowls and began to eat but sensing a change in his son's mood Alan broke the silence.

"Everything all right with Amita?"

"She's fine," Charlie answered around a mouthful of cereal, "just a little nervous about the presentation, that's all."

"She'll do just fine." Alan said, eyeing him closely.

Charlie smiled slightly. "That's what I told her too."

"You seem a little preoccupied….is anything else wrong?" He asked, peering over the rim of his glasses.

"Ah…I was just thinking that's all." Charlie answered, meeting his eyes briefly before taking another spoonful of his cereal.

"Another breakthrough!" Alan exclaimed gleefully, waving his spoon in the air. "Does it have to do with your cognitive emergence work?"

Charlie absently stirred the cereal in his bowl before looking up. "Actually Dad," he said releasing his spoon and looking up, "I was thinking about you."

"About me," Alan huffed, "what about me?"

"Well….not about you specifically," his voice dropped as he tried to explain, "it's more about me and the fact that I owe you an apology."

Alan's eyebrows rose and he crossed his arms. "What did you do?"

"Well, it's actually what I didn't do." Charlie said quietly, his expressive eyes glistening with unshed tears as he met his father's gaze. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you when Mom died…..I …..I should have been more supportive."

Puzzled, Alan leaned forward. "Charlie, why bring this up now?"

His son glanced away and cleared his throat. "I miss Amita and we've only been married a little over a year and it made me realize how much worse it must have been for you." He looked back sadly and whispered. "I'm so sorry Dad."

"Charlie." Alan admonished softly, his own eyes beginning to tear up. "I think I've told you before that I may not have understood your actions at the time but that was my fault son…..not yours." When Charlie started to protest Alan waved a hand for silence. "Listen to me….somehow your Mother always understood how your mind worked but it took me a little bit longer to figure that out. Despite your remarkable abilities I was still expecting you to behave like your brother in every other way and that was wrong. "Alan scratched his chin thoughtfully. "We've all grown since then Charlie…all of us, including Don, and we have a better understanding of one another now so when I look back on that time I don't see anything strange about your behavior." He smiled fondly at his son and stretched his hand across the table to gently pat his forearm. "Let it go son."

Charlie smiled, feeling as if a huge weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. "Thanks Dad."

"You're welcome." Alan replied picking up his spoon and scooping up some cereal. "Oh by the way, Donnie called last night. He said that he had been trying to get in touch with you all day so I told him about your cell phone."

"Yeah, I have a bunch of messages to answer." Charlie said, reaching for his glass of orange juice.

"Oh, and he said to tell you that he was sorry about Wednesday night and that he would try and get in touch with you today." Alan chuckled and shook his head. "Poor Donnie, it's just his luck that he would get off work, end up chasing bank robbers and then have to deal with an all-night hostage situation."

Charlie's mouth had dropped opened with a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. "He was working Wednesday night?" His eyes lit up with relief. "That's….that's great news Dad."

Alan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "It is?"

"Yeah…I mean… I thought," Charlie said with a shake of his head, "that doesn't matter now. Is he okay?"

Alan nodded his head. "Yeah, they're all fine, just a little tired. Don said they all had yesterday off to rest up."

Charlie pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial for Don's number but a few seconds later he ended up leaving a voice mail. "He's probably in the shower." The young man commented as he put the phone back in his pocket but his somber mood had changed and he began to eat his breakfast with gusto.

""I thought you would be home earlier last night." Alan said, pleased with his son's new frame of mind.

Charlie had to swallow a bite of toast and wash it down with a sip of juice before he could answer. "I would have been but Amita's flight was delayed because of the storm. It didn't actually take off until eleven."

Alan studied his son closely, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the weary droop of his shoulders. "You're wearing yourself down this week young man. Are you still covering the classes for that other Professor too?"

"Professor Hartwell is due back on Monday Dad." Charlie said with a shrug and pushed his chair back from the table. "I have a full schedule today though so don't expect me home early." He gathered up his dishes and headed for the sink; rinsing them off he stacked them in the dishwasher.

"Well I hope that you plan to get some rest this weekend." Alan retorted worriedly, rising from his chair and following him to the kitchen with his dirty dishes.

"Don't worry Pop," Charlie replied playfully, taking the dishes out of his hand, "I promise I'll stay home on Saturday. Maybe we can play golf or something."

"Or maybe you can relax a little and catch up on your sleep." Alan harrumphed as he followed his son to the living room.

Charlie rolled his eyes and headed for the couch where he had piled his things; he shrugged into his jacket then hung his computer bag over one shoulder and his book bag over the other as he strode for the door.

"I have to get going Dad. I'll try and catch Don later." He paused at the door and glanced back; his expressive brown eyes full of warmth and love. "Thanks Dad and not just for breakfast."

Alan nodded, his eyes glistening warmly. "See you later son."

After he left Alan rubbed his chin and stared thoughtfully at the door; he sniffed once and pulled his glasses off with one hand while he wiped away a few stray tears with the other. Snapping out of his reverie he put his glasses back on and headed for the bathroom to brush his teeth and finish getting ready for work. As he turned his eyes fell on a picture of his wife and he paused to pick it up.

"You were right my dear, as usual." He said, gazing fondly at the picture. "They've grown into fine young men Maggie, fine young men.

**00000000000000000000000000000**

"Where's Colby?" Don asked from his seat at the conference table; the ever present cup of coffee in his hand.

"Just getting some coffee, he'll be along in a minute." David said, lifting up his own cup. "I took the last so he had to brew another pot."

Liz grimaced and shared a look with her partner. "Granger's making the coffee? I'm glad I got mine already."

"Yeah, thanks for the warning David." Nikki snickered. "I'll stay away from that pot, that's for sure."

"I heard that." Colby drawled from behind them, a feigned look of hurt on his face. He took his place at the table and deliberately took a sip of his coffee. "Mmmmm….now that's a good cup of coffee."

"Yeah," Liz agreed sarcastically, "if you like to drink black sludge."

"You got that right girlfriend." Nikki snorted and they both burst into laughter.

"I take offense to that," Colby complained and turned to his partner. "You like my coffee, right?"

"Granger….please," David said, rolling his eyes and looking away, "you do not want to go there."

Disappointed, Colby looked to the only member of the team that had not spoken. "Come on Don, you like it don't you?"

Don couldn't help but grin; his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sorry Colby, you're on your own with this one."

"Well I think you're all wrong." Colby muttered stubbornly and took another drink of the hot liquid. He grimaced and noticed the grins on his friend's faces. " Hey, it's hot." He said defensively, prompting more laughter around the table.

Don had been enjoying the easy banter between the team but now it was time to get back to work.

"Since we didn't get to work on this case yesterday let's do a quick review before we add the information that you've gathered about the other victims."

The previous day of rest had given the team a chance to renew their strength and now they were all eager to get on with the case. Don posted a picture of Alicia Brogan on the large plasma screen in front of them.

'Right now we're at a dead end on her case. We know it wasn't burglary because nothing was taken. The boyfriend has a solid alibi; they got along well and they were talking about marriage so that blows our jealousy theory. She worked for JPL for the past ten years and although she didn't socialize a lot with her co-workers she did have their respect. The work she was doing for the DOD wasn't on a high security level so we can rule out the "torture for information theory" and yet she was beaten with an unknown object made from "rattan" wood before she received a fatal gunshot to the back of the head."

"Weapon of choice," Colby interjected. "was a small frame Double Action revolver, very light weight; under 1 lb empty." He shook his head. "Man, double –action revolvers are foolproof. Pull the trigger and, if the cylinder can rotate onto a live round, it will fire."

"Right." Don agreed. "One of Smith & Wesson's pocket pistols. Since we last talked Ballistics narrowed it down to two Centennial models, the 640 & the 642."

"Just like we said before," David said , "these small guns are bought more for defensive weapons than anything else; the average person would buy this type of gun to carry in his pocket for protection purposes not to commit murder."

"I agree." Don concurred. "Let's say our killer originally bought the gun for protection but somewhere along the way his motives have changed."

"So what do you think he's beating them with?" David asked, leaning back in his chair.

Don rolled his shoulders. "I don't know, a bat maybe or a stick?"

"Could be some kind of rod." Liz suggested.

Nikki nodded in agreement and then added. "Or maybe a type of a club."

"It could be any of those," Don said with a sigh, "but it's only speculation until we find it."

"What kind of person does that sort of thing?" Colby asked, waving his hands in frustration. "This guy doesn't fit any of our serial killer profiles."

"He's not a professional hit man that's for sure," Don answered grimly, "but he is a very smart killer; he leaves no fingerprints, no witnesses, nor any apparent motive for that matter."

Nikki stared at Brogan's photograph and mused out loud. "So how do we catch him?"

Don exchanged looks with his agents. "If we can find a link between the other four victims we may be able to determine the killer's motive and discover his identity. Who wants to go first?"

Nikki cleared her throat. "I'll start with Dr. Henri Yang; it looks like he may have been our first victim. He was a statistician for Johns Hopkins Medical Center and was murdered on March 5th, 2010. The Maryland police have already filed it as a cold case because of lack of evidence. Nothing was taken from his home so burglary was ruled out and the police couldn't come up with anyone that had a motive to kill him." She glanced sideways at Don. "His murder is identical in every way to Dr. Brogan's, from the beatings with an unknown weapon to a bullet to the back of the head…even the time of death, five a.m. on the dot." She clicked a button and Yang's picture appeared next to Brogans.

"Okay, who's next?" Don asked glancing from agent to agent.

"Well if we're going in order of the murders then Mendoza-Stevens is next." Liz said, tapping a few keys to add her victim's picture to those on the plasma screen. "She died in Denver, Colorado on April 10th, 2010 from a fatal gunshot wound to the back of the head. Prior to her death she had been brutally beaten; the bruise patterns on her body match the ones found on Dr. Brogans and time of death was five a.m. She was a Political Scientist and worked for many different corporations." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she added. "The local police ruled out burglary and like the other cases, no motive was found."

"Next up would be Dr. James Regan." Colby drawled and posted the man's picture next to the others on the screen. "He was an astrophysicist at the Georgia Tech Research Institute in Atlanta. Murdered May 15th 2010 just like the other victims, identical in every way. "

Don's head swiveled around. "David?"

The African-American agent tapped a few keys and the photograph of a young man appeared on the screen. "Dr Jefferson Crandall, a Research Analyst in Las Vegas, Nevada; beaten and shot to death in his home on May 25th, 2010." He glanced at the SAC. "Just like the others Don, no difference."

"Right." Don sighed and clicked a button to move Brogans picture to the last place in the line of photographs."One in March, one in April, two in May and now one in June." Don scrubbed a hand through his hair and rose to his feet. He paced in front of the screen thoughtfully and then turned to face his team. "The victims were of different genders; they came from divergent ethnic backgrounds and lived in different states so what were their commonalities?"

Colby tapped his pencil against the table as he stared at the pictures. "Well, they were all professionals and Regan had a Doctorate in Astrophysics from Princeton."

Don's head jerked around. "Brogan graduated from Princeton University in 1992 with a Bachelor of Science degree in engineering."

David scrolled down through the data he had received on his victim. "Don, Crandall was a graduate of Princeton University too…..in 1992."

"Dr. Sylvia Mendoz-Stevens graduated from Princeton University in 1992." Liz exclaimed breathlessly.

Four heads swiveled in Nikki's direction as she read her file and then looked up in disbelief." Dr. Yang also graduated from Princeton in 1992."

Colby let out a low whistle. "That's all five of them."

"That could just be a coincidence; Princeton has a lot of graduates." David said with a shake of his head.

"I agree." Don said rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "There must be another connection, another reason that our killer has chosen them as victims."

"So you don't think that Princeton University and the fact that they all graduated the same year could have something to do with the killer's motive?" Liz asked.

Don shrugged his shoulders. "It's possible but I think that would be a long shot at best. I mean how many of your classmates have you stayed in touch with?" His eyes drifted from agent to agent. "I can't think of a single one myself so I'm leaning toward the idea that maybe they've been working on something together and that's what got them killed."

"So what's the next step boss?" Nikki asked, leaning forward.

"Contact the various police departments involved; I want the victim's phone records transmitted ASAP. Also, contact the FBI field offices near the various police departments and have the agents collect the victims laptops; instruct them to download the data and send it to us right away. We can cross check them for any matches and if we're lucky that may provide us with the connections that we need to find our killer."

Colby grinned. "I know a certain mathematician that can sort through that data faster than we can."

Don nodded and pushed his chair back. "Get on that right away, you should be able to get the phone records within a couple of hours." He glanced at his watch. "Put together a folder with the victim's histories and phone records and I'll take them to Charlie myself."

David's eyes followed Don as he strolled from the room and then he turned to the other agents.

"You heard the man, let's get to it."

**00000000000000000**

_**California Interstate 5**_

_**Approximately 144.77 miles from Los Angeles**_

Ludwig glanced in the side view mirror before switching lanes to pass the slow delivery truck in front of him. He was becoming impatient but couldn't seem to help himself; he was eager to get back to L.A. not only because his next "appointment" was there but also because he was looking forward to the hospitality of "The Bissell House" and seeing Jennifer again.

Schiller had been on the road since six a.m. and would have started sooner but neither of the gas stations had opened before the six o'clock hour so he had been forced to bide his time until then. Consequently, he had been trying to make up for lost time and would occasionally exceed the 70 mile an hour speed limit. Luck had been with him so far and he grinned as the sign for Lost Hills disappeared behind him; Lost Hills was only two hours and thirty minutes from Los Angeles.

Ludwig's grin suddenly faded when heard the sirens and saw the flashing lights of the two California highway patrol motorcycles in his rear and side view mirrors.

"Pull over you fool!" the voice suddenly hissed in his head.

He flicked on his turn signal and pulled off the highway escorted by the two officers. Ludwig turned off the engine and powered down the driver's side window as one of the patrolmen approached the car.

"Are you aware that you are driving fifteen miles over the speed limit?" The young officer politely asked as he opened his ticket pad.

"I'm sorry officer, I'm afraid I didn't realize how fast I was going." Ludwig lied, pretending to be embarrassed.

The officer studied him for a moment and then asked him for his license and registration. Ludwig fumbled in his glove box and then handed them over to the young man and watched in the side view mirror as he wandered back to his bike. The patrolman radioed headquarters and casually talked to his partner while they waited for a response.

Schiller began to sweat while the policemen waited for information on him. He was pretty sure that no one had made any connection to him with regard to any of the murders, he had been too careful, but he couldn't help but fear discovery.

The sound of the officer's boots crunching against the gravel brought him out of his reverie and he looked up just as the patrolman appeared at the window.

"You're a long way from home Professor." The young man noted in a more friendly tone of voice.

"Ah…yes…I'm on sabbatical and wanted to explore our beautiful country."

"I suggest that you stay within the speed limit then so that you can enjoy your trip more." He said handing him back his papers along with a speeding ticket.

"That is excellent advice officer and I will certainly follow it." Ludwig responded graciously.

"Good day sir." The young man said and strode back to his bike.

Ludwig pulled slowly back onto the road and merged with the traffic, begrudgingly staying within the speed limits; he couldn't risk getting pulled over again. His eyes tracked the two California highway police officer's as they passed him by and took solace in the fact that he would get to Los Angeles by noon and would still have plenty of time to make all of the necessary preparations for his next student's session.

TBC

_To Cutter12: The power of suggestion is a mighty tool; along with the tapping of my computer keys I now hear the theme of "Jaws" as Schiller gets closer and closer to Charlie. I like it, thanks. (Of course this added tension could make it worse for our favorite mathematician.) _


	13. Chapter 13

By the Dawn's Early Light

By 1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for your reviews and alerts. I truly appreciate them.

Chapter 13:

Don juggled a large paper bag and a manila folder as he maneuvered his way through the arched corridors of the mathematics building at CalSci University. The Spanish Mission architecture of the old building afforded wide hallways but at times he would encounter clusters of students trying to decide where to go for lunch.

He slowly worked his way to the elevators but as he pressed the button he heard the sounds of whispers coming from somewhere behind him; glancing over his shoulder he discovered that two young women were walking slowly past him. Their heads were bent closely together in a secret conversation but their eyes were on him. Ordinarily he would have just dismissed them but he had the distinct impression that the one with the bright red hair and dressed in Gothic attire was showing more than a casual interest in him. A slight blush rose to his cheeks as her gaze drifted over his body and then back again to meet his eyes; the "come hither" look in her eyes was an open invitation to more than just a simple hello. Don was not a stranger to a woman's wiles but he was definitely out of his element here and there was no way that he was going to encourage a girl that was half his age. With a nod of his head he declined the invitation and blew out a relieved breath when the elevator bell chimed signaling its arrival. He quickly stepped aboard but as the door began to close he once again caught the young woman's eye….and did a double take. Wait a minute….had she really winked at him? The door closed and his lips spread in a slow grin as the elevator began its ascent; he would never have seriously considered her offer but he couldn't keep from enjoying the attention of such a pretty young woman. As the elevator came to a stop he wondered how Charlie dealt with being around so many young, sexy women all of the time and then he remembered that Amita had once been one of his brother's students too. Still, the flirtation had brightened his mood and as Don jauntily stepped from the elevator he decided that he would have to tease Robin with the tale of the mysterious Gothic woman.

His brother's office was on the top floor and was easily the largest one in the building. It took up most of the floor and was more like a suite than a regular room; from the luxurious brown leather couch to the massive oak desk the office loudly proclaimed Charlie's revered status at the university. He was the youngest professor to occupy the prestigious office and Don's heart swelled with pride as he strode through the nearly empty corridors.

Armed with a paper bag containing two sandwiches and drinks from the campus deli and a manila folder containing the latest details of the case he was bound and determined to sit down and spend some time with his brother.

Despite the brother's best efforts phone tag was still the name of the game and no matter how hard they had tried to get together, fate had raised its ugly head and intervened. It seemed as if an invisible force had conspired to keep them apart, continually throwing obstacles in their path.

Frustrated with voicemails and unexpected interruptions Don had decided to take a chance and just drop by with lunch. As he strode down the hallway an overwhelming sense of apprehension coursed through him and he began to worry if he had made the right decision in coming without contacting his brother first.

"It's too late to turn back now." He muttered as he turned the corner to the hallway leading to his brother's office.

Don stopped abruptly as he rounded the corner of the corridor and back pedaled to stay in the shadows. There was a small foyer outside of Charlie's office that contained a small bookcase filled with books and magazines along with a comfortable chair and side table but that wasn't why he had stopped…..it was the man standing in front of the office door that had paused his footsteps.

"_Damn."_ He thought, his heart sinking at the sight of the stranger; Charlie probably had an appointment with the man and wouldn't be able to have lunch with him after all.

The agent glanced at his watch and then back down the corridor. It was already 12:15 and Charlie still hadn't returned to his office; he could see through the beveled glass windows on the door that there weren't any lights on in the room…..so either Charlie was late or the man was early for their appointment, either way it looked as if Don was out of luck.

With a sigh Don started to turn around but something about the man's demeanor set his FBI senses tingling so instead of leaving he leaned further into the shadows so he could observe the man without being seen.

He was a tall, elderly man with thinning white hair and dark framed glasses; wearing a short-sleeved blue polo shirt and khaki pants with brown loafers he certainly looked the part of an academic. The blue blazer that he had draped over one arm would have clenched it….…except for one thing. The man was muscular; his arms clearly retained good muscle tone and this was unusual for someone of his age so he either worked out on a regular basis or had a job that kept him physically active and Don had yet to meet an academic who kept physically fit unless they were involved with sports activities.

The agent's eyes narrowed further as the stranger suddenly glanced upward; his eyes appeared to follow along the edges of the ceiling as if he was looking for something but although Don followed his gaze he failed to note anything of significance.

Don's eyes drifted back to the man; he had tossed his blazer over the chair and was stepping closer to the office door. The stranger cast furtive glances around the hallway to see if anyone was watching and then apparently satisfied that he was alone, tried to open the door. He cursed loud enough for Don to hear him when the door refused to open and then began to mutter under his breath as if he were talking to someone else. He turned full circle and eyed the other doors along the corridor until his gaze settled on the door to the rest room.

The agent had seen enough; it was fairly obvious to him that the stranger was casing the place but the problem was that he had no proof. At this point it was just speculation on his part and he had to consider the possibility that Charlie knew this man and was expecting him. If that were the case his brother would be furious at him for confronting the man without any evidence to back up his suspicions.

"_No," Don thought stubbornly, "this man was definitely up to no good_." His gut was telling him that he was right and it was time to find out. Decision made, Don set his jaw and deliberately strode forward.

At the sound of the approaching footsteps the old man's head swiveled around immediately; eyes carefully tracking the agent's approach.

Don could tell from the man's expression that he was more than annoyed at the interruption but that didn't bother him; he had faced tougher individuals than this old man during his fifteen years as an FBI agent.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked amicably, meeting the man's stony gaze.

"Since you are obviously not Professor Eppes," Ludwig sneered in a sarcastic tone of voice, "it is highly unlikely that you can help me with anything."

"Charlie is my brother." Don retorted in a steely voice pushing aside any attempt at being friendly. He had become accustomed to the friendly manner of the professors at CalSci but he had also met a few that were full of themselves and thought they were better and smarter than everyone else….. just like the man standing in front of him. "Tell me what your name is and I'll let him know that you were here."

Schiller straightened to his full height and looked down his nose at Don. The voice had started yelling as soon as the man had identified himself, telling him to remain calm and let him handle Eppes's brother, the FBI agent. Inwardly Ludwig was terrified of being discovered but with the voice in control his outward appearance was one of confidence and authority. Casually he shifted his stance so that he could pick up his blazer and without another word slipped it on. When he faced Don again his lips were stretched in a taut line across his face making his eyes appear even colder from the forced smile.

"That won't be necessary." Ludwig replied arrogantly in a clipped voice. "I'll catch up to him later." He edged stiffly around the agent and with his held high strode rapidly down the corridor.

"_Not if I warn him first you_ _arrogant bastard_!" Don thought bitterly as he watched the man disappear around the corner. So he was a professor after all; Don would have sworn that the man had been up to no good and made a mental note to ask Charlie about the man later on. Startled out of his reverie by the sound of footsteps the agent glanced quickly around with the hopes that Charlie was returning to his office.

"Hey Don." Larry called out as he approached the agent. "What brings you to CalSci?"

Well," Don replied ruefully, holding up the paper bag and folder,"I thought I would surprise Charlie with some lunch. Oh, and give him this too." He added waving the folder around.

Larry smiled sadly. "That was a great idea Don, but I'm afraid that Charles is teaching right now."

Don's face fell. "Isn't he going to eat lunch?"

"Probably not until later." Larry shrugged. "Right now he's teaching his "Math for non-mathematics class". You know the one he does for free so that anyone can attend?"

"I thought he was going to give up that class?"

"He was, but he had so many requests when he returned from Cambridge that he didn't have the heart to turn them down. It's so popular in fact that he had to request a larger hall to accommodate everyone."

Don nodded and looked away; it looked like fate had struck again. Accepting defeat he turned to his friend and raised the bag. "How about you Larry? Have you eaten yet?"

"Actually I have Don but I appreciate the offer. Why don't you leave it for Charlie?" he asked with a nod toward the office door.

"I would but the door is locked."

"Not to worry my friend, not to worry." Larry replied, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. "Charlie let me keep a key when he returned in case there were occasions when I needed more room to work." He looked up and grinned as the lock clicked open. "Besides that is the most comfortable couch that I have ever had the pleasure to stretch out on."

Don's face split in a grin; his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'll bet."

Larry pushed open the double doors and they entered the room. Don headed straight for the oval table in front of the couch and set the deli bag down. He pulled a sandwich and a bottle of soda from the bag and carried them to a large bookcase that was standing along the left side of the room; hidden beneath one of the lower doors was a small refrigerator. Don placed the sandwich and soda inside then picked up the folder before crossing over to his brothers desk. He sat down and placed the folder on the desk while he searched for some paper to write a note to Charlie.

"How is the case coming along?" Larry asked, coming up to stand beside of the desk.

"Slowly." Don said with a slight shake of his head, "we're having trouble connecting the victims."

Larry shrugged his shoulders. "Charlie has another class this afternoon but I'll be free after three and I can come over and give you a hand."

"That would be great Larry. Thanks." Don said, looking up briefly from writing his message.

The agent finished the note, searched momentarily for a paperclip and then attached it to the folder; rising from the chair he left the folder in the middle of the desk and crossed the room to eat his own lunch. After a quick glance at his watch though he changed his mind and grabbed the bag before turning toward the door.

"Aren't you going to stay and eat your lunch?'

"Sorry Larry it's getting late and I have a meeting with the ADIC this afternoon." Don replied as he opened the door but paused as a thought occurred to him. "Say Larry, do you know if Charlie had a luncheon appointment with anyone today?"

Larry's expression was one of surprise. "It's highly unlikely given his prior commitment. Why do you ask?"

"Well, when I arrived there was an older man waiting in the foyer but when I asked him who he was he left saying that he would see Charlie later. Is CalSci currently entertaining any visiting professors?"

"What makes you think he was a professor?"

"Don't take offense at this Larry, but there are a lot of academics that put themselves above everyone else and this guy was one arrogant s.o.b."

"Oh, no offense taken, my friend," Larry replied grinning, "I have met more than a few people in my lifetime that would fall into that category."

Don grimaced. "Well I got a bad feeling about this guy so when you see Charlie could you give him a heads up about this fellow."

"I wouldn't worry about Charles," Larry said, giving Don a knowing look. "Trust me; there have been many arrogant people who have met their match in Professor Charles Eppes."

"Really?" Don asked, his lips lifting upward in a grin. "You'll have to tell me about them later."His brow furrowed and his voice suddenly became serious. "Don't forget to tell him about this guy, okay? There was something about the man that was unsettling but I can't seem to put my finger on it."

"Ok…sure, I'll tell him as soon as I see him."

"Thanks. I gotta go Larry." With a wave of his hand Don closed the door and hurried down the hallway.

**000000000000000000000**

Ludwig found an empty seat in a darkened area of the theatre so that Eppes wouldn't be able to see him. He slid further down in his seat just to be on the safe side; letting the fat man in front of him become a shield against prying eyes.

He glanced around the room; there were people here from all walks of life. Some were dressed in suits; others wearing more casual attire, all had given up their lunch hours to listen to the young professor.

What could they possibly gain from this? Why was this lecture important to them? He glanced sideways at a young man wearing a mechanic's shirt and in front of him sat a woman wearing a waitresse's uniform. His bushy eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. He conceded that the simplistic analogy the professor had just used might help them to understand the math a little better but to what end? How was it going to help their miserable little lives? And what good was it doing the retirees scattered about the room…just something to fill in a few useless hours? He shook his head and furiously scribbled a few notes on a small pad of paper.

"Fascinating isn't it?"

Startled, Ludwig glanced sideways at the elderly Latino man sitting next to him. He sneered at him and replied sarcastically. "Yes, simply amazing."

Surprise and then irritation crossed the Latino's features. "No one is forcing you to be here man." He replied in a huff, rising from his seat. "If you don't like it, why don't you leave instead of ruining it for the rest of us?" Muttering under his breath he moved further down the row, putting as much distance as possible between them.

The man's loud outburst had created a stir and the people in the surrounding rows turned around to see what was going on. Ludwig shrank further down in his seat when the Professor stopped talking and gazed in his direction. Schiller sighed in relief a few moments later when Eppes continued on with his lesson.

Five minutes before the lecture was over Ludwig heard one of the doors to the auditorium open and glanced around just when Professor Fleinhardt stepped into the room. With a gasp of surprise he immediately ducked down between the seats pretending that he had dropped his pencil. He kept his head down low but kept an eye on the professor as he made his way down to the floor. As soon as Fleinhardt had passed his aisle, Ludwig returned to his seat and watched as Larry settled in the first row. Schiller glanced back at the door but decided it would be too risky to try and leave now; the only way to get out without being seen was to blend in with the crowd when they left.

A few minutes later people began to rise out of their seats and make their way toward the aisle; Ludwig waited until Larry had engaged Charlie in a conversation and then purposely hunched his back to hide his height as he merged with the crowd. As soon as he was through the door he straightened up and made a bee line for the bus stop.

**000000000000000000000000**

"Hey Larry. " Charlie called out over the voices of the crowd as they exited the auditorium.

"Charles." Larry responded and with a wave of his hand. "It looks like your lecture was a success."

"Yes I believe it was." Charlie agreed proudly as he gathered up his books and papers. "I think this was my largest group so far." He hung the book bag across his shoulder as they trailed the people out into the warm sunshine.

"Thanks Professor Eppes."

Charlie turned and nodded warmly to the young waitress before she hurried off to her job. "That makes it all worthwhile." He said with a grin.

"Perhaps that will inspire her to do more with her life." Larry commented thoughtfully. "Is that your reason for doing this?"

"That is a major part of it and the other reason it that it gives people who normally wouldn't have the opportunity, a chance to see how important math is in our everyday lives." Charlie replied with a shrug. His phone began to ring and he pulled it from his pocket; after a quick glance at the caller and then an apologetic look at his friend he answered it.

"Hi, how did the seminar go today? Really, that's great." He responded with a glance at Larry, a smile spreading across his face. "Right. I love you too. Bye." Charlie closed the phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

"How is Amita?" Larry asked.

"Everything is going well but she couldn't talk very long, she was just on a short break and had to get back to the conference." His voice trailed off and he looked away.

"Don't worry; she'll be back soon enough." Larry said soothingly.

Charlie's cheeks reddened slightly. "I know…I just miss her."

"Oh, by the way," the physicist remarked, changing the subject, "Don stopped by to see you."

Charlie stopped in his tracks and looked around the campus. "Where is he?"

Larry glanced at his watch. "Well by now he's probably headed for his meeting with the ADIC."

Charlie's eyebrows rose in surprise. "But you just said he was here."

Larry shook his head. "No, what I said was that he had stopped by to see you but that was around noon."

"I see and did he say what he wanted?" Charlie asked and started walking again. "Did he have more data on the case?"

"Yes as a matter of fact and he left a folder on your desk."

Charlie just nodded and kept walking. _"Of course, he thought to himself, "He only came over to bring me more data."_

"But he said his main reason for coming over was to spend some time with you and share lunch."

Charlie stopped again and looked over, his eyes lighting up happily. "He said that?"

"Yes," Larry answered laughingly, "and he left you a sandwich in your refrigerator."

"Maybe I can still get in touch with him." Charlie said, pulling out his phone again but as before, he ended up leaving a message. He grimaced and glanced at his friend. "It's the bane of our existence;" he muttered bitterly, "our communication has been reduced to nothing more than leaving messages."

"Charles, I am sure that the two of you will soon get together and work out your misunderstandings."

"Thanks Larry, I'm sure that you're right."They continued their walk in silence and soon reached the math building.

"Charles did you have an appointment with anyone around noon today?"Larry asked suddenly.

Taken aback by the question Charlie gazed at his friend in bewilderment. "What kind of question is that Larry? Why would I schedule an appointment with someone at the same time that I was teaching a class…..and what do you mean by anyone?"

Larry threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Anyone…..you know….a visiting professor maybe?"

"Why are you asking this Larry?"

"Well, Don said that when he arrived there was a man standing outside of your office and when he confronted him the man rushed off in a huff." Larry grinned sheepishly. "Actually he called him an arrogant s.o.b."

"He did, huh?" Charlie chuckled, grinning broadly. "It was probably someone seeking assistant with a problem but I haven't any idea who it was?"

Larry grew serious. "I don't know Charlie, Don seemed really worried and he told me to tell you to be careful."

"Well…ok" He stammered, caught off guard by the sudden warning. "I'll make sure that I lock my door."Charlie cleared his throat and looked at his watch. "If I hurry I just might have time to eat that sandwich before my next class."

"Ah…right," Larry waved his arm toward another building, "I'm on my way over to the super computer but maybe I'll catch up with you later."

"See ya." Charlie replied with a nod of his head as he turned away and hurried up the steps. He was hungrier than he realized and a sudden growl from his stomach spurred his steps to move a little faster.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

By the Dawn's Early Light

By 1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for your reviews. I truly appreciate them.

Chapter 14:

"Matt ran the data retrieved from the hard drives of all of the victim's computers and came up with zilch." David sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets. "If they were in contact with one another, they didn't do it by computer."

"Hell we don't even know if our killer is still in this area. If he stays true to form then he's already moved on to another state." Colby muttered crossly.

"We're missing something." Don sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he stared at the plasma screen. They had been at it for hours but had made little progress in the case.

A thought suddenly occurred to him and he bent over to hit a few keys on his laptop; a crime scene photo of Alicia Brogan lying on the floor of her office suddenly appeared on the plasma screen. "Put up the pictures of your victim's crime scene photos."

One by one each picture was added to the screen and then Don ordered David to enlarge each one until every detail in the pictures was clear.

"What are you seeing Don?" Colby asked, squinting at the photographs.

The SAC stood in front of the TV and pointed out the similarities. "In each photograph there are magazines and papers scattered across the floor."He scratched the stubble on his jaw while he considered his next statement. "Why? What is their significance to the murders?"

"Why does it have to be related to the murders?" Colby asked, sharing a puzzled look with his partner. "I mean couldn't our victims just have been working on the papers or reading the magazines when the murderer arrived?"

"It's possible." Don reluctantly conceded.

"But you don't believe it." David scoffed, scrolling through the data that he had collected on Crandall.

Don's brow furrowed. "I can't explain it but I just have the feeling that it means something…..something that is important to our killer."

Liz leaned back in her chair; crossing her arms she snickered. "You've got a hunch."

"Maybe." Don murmured rubbing the back of his neck. "All of the magazines found in Brogan's office contained articles that she had published," he shrugged his shoulders, "which I guess in itself wouldn't be that unusual but what about the magazines found at the other crime scenes….did they contain articles written by the victims too?"

He turned to his team with a questioning expression which clearly asked "why are you just sitting there?" and suddenly the other agents were scrambling to scan through the information that they had accrued on their respective victims. Don returned to his seat and scrolled through the data that he had collected on Brogan then pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Dr. Ackerman, this is Special Agent Eppes with the FBI. I'm sorry to trouble you at this time but something has come up in Dr. Brogan's case and I need to ask you a question." He listened for a moment and then asked his question. After a short conversation he scrolled through the data again and then dialed another number.

"Mrs. Brogan, this is Special Agent Eppes with the FBI. I'm sorry to trouble you at this time but something has come up in your daughter's case and I need to ask you a question." A few minutes later he thanked her and hung up the phone.

"What'd you find out boss?" Nikki asked peering over the top of her laptop.

Don leaned back in his chair and met the eyes of his team. "Dr. Ackerman says that Alicia never bought any of those magazines that we found….says he doesn't have any idea how they got there. Ackerman said that right after they started dating she published an article in Scientific American and he offered to pick up a copy for her but she told him that she never bought them because her mother always collected them."

"So how did they get there?" David asked.

"Mrs. Brogan swears that her collection is still in her bookshelf….she even checked it while we were on the phone and confirmed that they're all still there. So unless Alicia lied to her boyfriend the only other conclusion is that our killer must have brought them there."

Colby's eyebrows shot up in the air. "For what purpose?"

"Why would he do that?" Liz asked, following Colby's line of thought. "What relevance would the magazines have to the killer's motive?"

"You may be on to something Don." David said excitedly. "I've just checked a couple of the magazines that were found at Crandall's office and both of them contained articles that had been written by Dr. Crandall."

Nikki crossed her arms and huffed. "If I published an article in a magazine I would make damn sure that I had a copy of it…maybe even two. " She turned to her partner. "Liz, you're taking up profiling so answer this for me. Isn't it human nature to keep copies of your accomplishments?"

Liz tilted her head to the side and regarded her partner before answering. "I think it's inherent in all of us to try and chronicle our accomplishments," her lips parted in a grin, "and yes, I would want a copy of anything that I had published."

Nikki glanced at Don. "I think that most people, at one time or another, look back on their past glories so maybe that's all this is." She tossed her hair and looked around the table at her teammates. "Brogan must have lied to her boyfriend and had her own copies stashed away somewhere. That night she got nostalgic and happened to be looking at them when her killer arrived."

"Maybe." Don mumbled, but his tone of voice lacked conviction.

"But you're still not buying it. " Colby noted, tapping his pencil against the desk.

Don frowned and shook his head. "No. Check with your victim's families and find out if they have any idea why the papers and magazines were there. If we can determine if the killer brought them there then it might help us get inside this guy's head."

**00000000000000000**

Charlie unlocked his office and hurried inside; setting his bags down in one of the chairs he strode over to a side bookcase and knelt down to retrieve the sandwich and soda from the refrigerator. Carrying them to his desk he sat down and hungrily removed the sandwich from its wrapping paper and while taking several bites read his brother's note.

"_**Hey Buddy,**_

_**Sorry I missed you, guess I should have called first huh? We certainly haven't had much luck in getting together lately, have we?**_

_**Anyway, the folder contains background information on the additional murder victims that you discovered. So far we've only been able to connect the victims in one way; they all graduated from Princeton in 1992.**_

"Princeton…1992!" Charlie muttered in surprise looking up from the letter. He took a long drink of soda and another bite of the sandwich as his eyes drifted back to the note.

_**But I'm betting on a more recent connection although I have to tell you that I'm relieved that you graduated in '91. Hopefully you can pull one of those "magic tricks "out of your hat and point us in the right direction.**_

_**When I stopped by earlier there was a man trying to get into your office. Tall, early sixties, white hair and glasses, said he would catch up with you later. I don't trust him so watch your back. There was something weird about the man and it wasn't just because he was an arrogant s.o.b. either. Maybe you should warn security about him.**_

Charlie paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Don's description fit a number of CalSci professors although there was only one of them that he would classify as being an arrogant s.o.b. Professor Martin certainly fit the description but Charlie was sure that he was out of town at the moment. His eyes drifted downward to finish his brother's note.

_**I appreciate your help Charlie,  
Don**_

"Magic tricks," Charlie snickered and rolled his eyes as he set the note aside and flipped open the folder. His thoughts grew serious as he began to read , his mind automatically gravitating toward the number references first; without any effort his eidetic memory automatically began comparing birthdates, ages, social security numbers….any kind of numbers that were listed in the documents that might form a pattern to connect the victims. He paused suddenly when his gaze fell on one particular number….the year they had all graduated from Princeton. Don had seemed to dismiss that fact in his note but…what were the odds?

He frowned as his eyes drifted over each of the victim's names and photographs. Charlie rubbed a finger over his lips as he studied the pictures and then scanned the documents looking specifically for their chosen professions. Astrophysics, engineering, political science, research analysis and Orbit & Trajectory analysis; all fields that would have required higher mathematical skills in order to perform them, which meant that they had probably taken some of the same math classes that he had taken.

He took another bite of his sandwich and tried to recall if he had shared classes with any of them while he was at Princeton. Their physical characteristics would have changed a lot in eighteen years, no make that nineteen because he had graduated the year before. Yet the odds were staggering; it was inconceivable that he hadn't shared a class with at least one of them during the three years that he had attended Princeton.

Charlie finished the sandwich and downed the rest of the soda as he pushed his chair back from the desk and rose to his feet. His mind still on the case he absently closed the folder and picked up the sandwich paper and empty bottle then tossed them into the trash. The young man crossed the room and picked up his bag but his eyes drifted back to the folder as he hung the bag over his shoulder. Charlie had a fleeting thought at the edge of his mind as he turned toward the door; he hadn't recognized any of the faces but some of the names had seemed to have a familiar ring to them, but the memory was gone and he couldn't seem to get it back. He turned the latch and stepped over the threshold; pausing long enough to lock the door behind him before turning on his heel and rushing for the elevator.

As the elevator door closed and he began his descent Charlie's thoughts strayed back to his Princeton days and to the only classmate that he had truly called a friend. Thomas Hill had been five years older than him at the time but a mutual respect had developed between them and they had formed a close friendship that had stayed strong through the course of the passing years. Just last year Charlie had spent the weekend at his cabin in Castle Rock and together they had hiked the trails of Mount St. Helens. The EPA had posted a three mile radius restriction around the mountain to all visitors but since Hill was doing research for them he had been able to get Charlie a special pass. They had spent the better part of a day just exploring the crater itself and for the first time Charlie had been able to understand his friend's passion for his chosen profession. Tom had become a noted volcanologist and was well respected in his field; he was at home on that mountain and as the elevator door opened Charlie couldn't refrain from smiling as he remembered the excited gleam in his friend's eyes when he had shared his latest discovery with him.

As he exited the building and hurried down the steps, Charlie pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contact numbers. He punched a button and with the phone to his ear he hurried across campus. "_Hey Tom, its Charlie. Take your nose out of that volcanic rock and pick up the_ _phone."_ He said teasingly when he heard the machine pick up. "_All right, just give me a call as soon as you can, will ya? I've got an important question to ask you. Catch you later." _His friend had graduated the same year as the murder victims and Charlie was hoping that he just might be able to give him a little insight on his former classmates.

**00000000000000000000**

Miles away in a small secluded cabin on the outskirts of Castle Rock the ring of a telephone echoed eerily around the silent building, disturbing the mice that had eaten through the take-out bag containing Tom's uneaten ravioli dinner. Four small furry heads rose in the air, sniffing for scents that would warn them of danger; whiskers twitching constantly as they sought the smell that should be coming with the loud ringing sound but try as they might they were unable to sense any new danger. They remained frozen in their positions long after the voice had stopped speaking and then one by one they began to eat again.

Another mouse entered the cabin through a small hole in the corner of the room and scurried across the floor, pausing briefly to sniff at the still form lying on the floor. After a moment he hurried to join the other mice; his bloody tracks mingling with the ones that were already dotting the wooden floor.

Thomas Hill's undiscovered body lay in the same position that he had fallen in; his once intelligent eyes now wide open and clouded over with death. In life, during the course of his work, he would often spend days alone on the isolated trails enjoying the companionship of the local wildlife…and sadly it appeared that in death it would be the same.

**00000000000000000**

Ludwig hastily scribbled notes along the margins of the pages of the book that he was reading. How could Eppes demean himself by writing such a monstrosity? The boy had truly lost his way if he considered this to be important; actually, he grudgingly conceded, the math in itself was quite elegant but the way he presented it was just appalling.

"Do you mind if I join you Professor?" Jenny's melodious voice barely cut through the man's angry mutterings.

Ludwig's head swiveled around at the sound of her voice. He tilted his head upward and squinted at her in the late afternoon sunlight.

"Of course dear lady." He replied pleasantly waving a hand at the rocking chair next to his.

Schiller had returned to "The Bissell House" for a much needed rest. He had gone straight to CalSci as soon as he had arrived in L.A. and attributed his close calls to the fact that he was tired and not thinking straight. The warm sun and light breeze had lured him to the rocking chairs located on front porch of the bed and breakfast and the relaxing atmosphere had been just the thing to calm his nerves …..even the voice had given him some respite.

"I often come out here to relax and read a good book." She said, her eyes drifting from the book in his lap to the one in her hand. Jenny sat down and leaned her head back against the chair as she gently began to rock to and fro.

Without even realizing it, Ludwig began to rock his chair at the same slow pace that Jenny was rocking and found that her presence had an even more calming effect on him. He desperately savored the moment knowing that all too soon the voice would return and demand that he continue on with its important work. Sitting there with her he wished that he could stop…he wanted to stop….he wanted another life other than the one the voice had created for him. Ludwig sighed wistfully, imagining how his life could have been different if he'd only taken a different path.

"The Attraction Equation: Being Popular is as Easy as Pi." Jenny murmured excitedly, leaning forward to get a better look at the book in his hands. "Oh, I love this book!"

Pulled from his reverie, Ludwig looked down in surprise at the book and then met her cheerful gaze. "You've read this?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, you don't have to seem so surprised," she replied a little defensively. "I'm not a mathematician but the way Professor Eppes explains everything it is really easy to follow along. I found the math absolutely fascinating."

"Please do not take offense Jenny," Ludwig said, trying to explain. "Try to understand that as a mathematician I look at this book from an analytical perspective and I fail to see its appeal."

"Oh." She said, a little ill at ease. "I suppose I can see your point of view but perhaps you should try reading it without dissecting it then you might enjoy it as I have." Her voice became more buoyant as she spoke. "It was at the top of the best sellers list for months." She reached over and tapped the book with her finger and with a saucy twinkle in her eye she added proudly. "I have a signed edition myself and I have to admit that I was as giddy as a school girl when the professor signed it for me." She found the look of disbelief on the older man's face humorous and it inspired her to be a bit more playful. "He really is an attractive young man. Do you think that he would have an interest in an older woman?"

Ludwig's jaw dropped open as he stammered out an answer. "Ah….ah…I believe he is married."

Jenny laughed out loud. "I'm teasing you Ludwig. I'm old enough to be the young man's mother and besides even if I were younger, I'm certain that someone that intelligent would have little in common with me."

"That's not true!" Ludwig exclaimed. He glanced away in embarrassment before meeting her eye and offering an explanation. "I mean, I think you're a very interesting person and I…..I have been called brilliant in my day. I taught him you see," he hastened to explain, "at Princeton when he was just a boy of thirteen."

Her eyes widened, obviously impressed by his statement. "Really? You taught Dr. Eppes?"

"Oh yes," he answered eagerly, warming to the conversation. "He was quite a brilliant child so perhaps you can understand my disappointment when I discovered that he had written something like this," he said with a sneer as he held up the book, "and I know that he is capable of so much more."

Jenny leaned back, tapping the top of her book gently against her chin as she studied him."You really believe that he made a mistake in writing that book, don't you?"

"Yes, yes of course I do." Ludwig replied earnestly, unaware that the arrogant side of him was beginning to seep into his tirade. "To put it into perspective, it's like Einstein writing a 4th grade primer in an effort to reach people who couldn't possibly understand the math anyway?"

Jenny stood up abruptly, color rising to her cheeks."Speaking as one of those people, I can assure you that I did understand the math and very much appreciated Dr. Eppes publishing this book!" She stepped around his chair, still fuming. "I find your words insulting and demeaning. Good day Professor!"

Ludwig stood up, realizing that he had gone too far and although he tried to get in a word of apology she stormed off with a toss of her head. The door slammed shut behind her and Ludwig's shoulders began to droop as he stared at the closed door. "I…I didn't mean it." He whimpered in a barely audible voice. "What….what did I say?" He whispered in shock as he flopped back down in the rocking chair.

"It doesn't matter, she's a stupid woman!" The voice hissed suddenly. "Forget about her, you have more important work to do. Besides, it's Eppes fault that you argued and we'll make him pay for that later."

Ludwig gave the voice a barely susceptible nod and rose unsteadily to his feet. He pulled his pocket watch out and checked the time; the voice was right, he had to get inside the Math building before Eppes went home. He hurried inside and headed for his room but paused on the staircase when he saw Jenny laughing and talking to another male guest. His mouth twisted in a sneer when the sound of her laughter drifted over to the stairway. "The voice was right," he muttered as he continued up the staircase, "she is a stupid woman!"

Once in his room he began to gather up the items that he would need for that evenings' session. Schiller removed the revolver from his suitcase and loaded it before placing it in the satchel; draping it over his shoulder he crossed to the other side of the room and picked up a bulging book bag. He locked the door as he left the room and hung the book bag from his other shoulder as he hurried down the stairs.

Ludwig dared a backward glance as he opened the front door but Jenny was not in sight. The wistful look on his face suddenly turned hard as the voice seemed to hiss in his ear. "Move it old man! There is work to do!"

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

By the Dawn's Early Light

By 1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Spoilers: Angels and Devils

A/N: As always, I thank you for your reviews and alerts. A Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate the holiday.

"_**Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous."**_

_**Albert Einstein**_

Chapter 15:

Irritably Liz tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before she pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. "I've been sitting at that desk for too long." She muttered crossly as she arched her back and then stretched her arms over her head to work her sore muscles.

"Profiling not going well?" Colby snickered, taking the pencil out of his mouth.

Liz arched an eyebrow and glared at him. "Care to give it a shot Granger?"

Colby scoffed without taking his eyes from his laptop. "Ah….not me. I believe that's your expertise Warner." This time he looked up and grinned. "You just find the right door and I'll kick it in for you."

"Deal." Liz retorted, sharing a grin with Nikki.

"Colby's one of the best door kickers around." David mumbled with a straight face but lost it when he looked up at the sound of laughter and his partner's scowl.

"What?" he asked innocently. "I'm just saying…."

"Yeah, I know what you're saying." Colby grumbled good-naturedly. "I'm just tired of sitting; I need to, "he grinned at David, "kick in a few doors."

David chuckled then turned his attention to Liz. "What's the problem?"

"This is the problem David." She said with a frustrated wave toward the plasma screen. "I can't find anything in the FBI database that resembles in any way what our killer is doing."

Nikki raised her head in surprise. "You mean there are no cases similar to this one?"

"Similar…sure there are." Liz answered, leaning back against the table and folding her arms. "Beating the victims and shooting them in the back of the head are the only similarities though….nothing else about this case matches any others." She straightened up and walked around the table, coming to a stop in front of the screen, "We still don't know why he is crisscrossing the countryside or how he is choosing his victims. Hell, we don't even know why the magazines and papers are relevant to the case?"

"Don was right about the papers and magazines though." David said quietly. "We've confirmed in every case that the victim didn't put them there. " He chuckled suddenly and grinned at the team. "Don personally took all of those found at the Brogan murder back to the forensics lab and ordered them to check every single page for prints."

"Bet that went over well." Colby snickered.

"Yeah."David huffed. "They told him that every page had already been checked."

Colby let out a low whistle. "To which Don responded…?"

"So… do it again." David replied, trying his best to mimic Don's voice and then burst into laughter when his words were chorused by the three other agents. They'd all been there, when Don's gut was talking to him you didn't argue, you just went along for the ride. You might not see his reasoning at the time but inevitably he was always right; the man's instincts were uncanny.

"A print would really be helpful right now." Nikki sighed tiredly, leaning back in her chair. "Without a clue to his identity how are we supposed to figure out why he would bring copies of his victim's accomplishments with him?"

"It kinda reminds me of that old TV series." Colby said absently as he tapped the keys of his keyboard but when it grew silent he looked up to meet three blank stares. "You know….that one called "This is your Life."

"He just might be on to something." Nikki said excitedly, rising to her feet. "I mean maybe he's bringing the newspapers and papers along to rub their noses in it before he kills them."

Liz frowned. "To what end?"

"Why are you asking me…..you're the profiler." Nikki retorted with a toss of her head.

"Okay…okay." Liz replied trying to reason through it. "What if our killer accused them of stealing his work and wanted to confront them with it before he killed them? That would be a reason for bringing the stuff there."

"I don't think so," David said with a shrug of his shoulders, "for one thing they all had very different and highly skilled professions and I don't believe that one person could be an expert in all five fields."

"Maybe it's someone who believes that he is the victims peer and uses their work to put them down." Colby said thoughtfully, glancing at his partner.

David shook his head and stood up. "I don't think so Colby and for the same reason that I didn't like Liz's theory, he would have to be an expert in all five fields."

Nikki sighed heavily. "I guess you have a good point mini-Don." She looked through the glass walls at the outside office and then turned to David. "Speaking of Don, where is he?"

"Robin caught an unexpected case this afternoon and has to fly to Denver to interview a witness. Don left early to take her to the airport." David replied with a glance at his watch and then rubbed his eyes tiredly. "It's almost seven guys…let's call it a night. We've got the weekend off for a change so you should go home and take advantage of it."

Liz wandered over to her laptop and shut it down. "If I wasn't so tired I would argue with you."

"Go." David said waving his hand toward the door. "I have a feeling that this guy has already moved on with his agenda….one that only he is able to see. See you on Monday."

Nikki and Liz said their goodnights and made their way toward the elevators.

Colby turned and faced his partner. "How about you? Are you going home too?"

"Just as soon as I finish a couple of reports." David promised, rubbing a tired hand over his bald head.

Colby gave him a nod and left the room. He stopped by his desk to shut everything down and a few minutes later stepped aboard the elevators with Nikki and Liz.

"I thought you guys would already be in the garage by now." He commented as he tried but failed to stifle a yawn.

"Don't do that Granger," Liz admonished as she covered her mouth to hide her own yawn, "besides, you were right behind us, remember?"

"Sorry." He grunted but grinned broadly when Nikki yawned as well.

"Great," She huffed, "now I'll be yawning all the way home. Has anyone ever done any studies on why yawning is so contagious?"

Chuckling, they left the elevator and walked slowly through the main lobby, arriving at the security station just as Professor Fleinhardt passed through it.

"What are you doing here Larry?" Colby asked as the three agents stopped in front of him.

"I was hoping to work on the case but its looks as if I may be too late." The astrophysicist replied, glancing from agent to agent.

"Have you discovered anything new?" Liz asked eagerly.

Larry shook his head. "No, but I thought that you might have."

"Nada." Colby replied, but at the disappointed look on the Professor's face he added. "David is still up there if you want to give it another try. Maybe working in the war room will spark an idea."

"Actually, there is no proven correlation between physical proximity and promise of result but I believe that I shall give it a try anyway." Larry replied and left the three of them gaping at him as he strolled across the floor.

"I'm pretty sure that he has said that before but I was too tired to even ask." Liz commented as she watched the professor step aboard the elevator.

"It sounded familiar to me too girlfriend." Nikki agreed, and then turned a quizzical eye toward Granger.

"You do realize that by sending him up there David will probably have to stay longer than he was planning to?"

"Yeah, I know." He replied with an impish grin and turned on his heel.

"Granger you are soooo bad." Liz chuckled as they left the building.

**00000000000000000**

Charlie glanced at his watch and was amazed to find that time had flown by so quickly. It was frustrating, he knew the answer was somewhere hidden within the data in front o f him and yet it still eluded him. It was seven forty-five on Friday evening and even though he had spent hours and hours working on the case he was still coming up with only two commonalities among the five victims. After his last class he had returned to his office, recorded the new data that Don had left for him and had made a beeline for the super computer. But even after the data run and all of the high-tech technology available to him Charlie was still coming up with his original analysis: the only commonality that he could find was that all five victims graduated from Princeton University in 1992.

Was it really possible that the reason for their murders happened eighteen years ago? It seemed almost ludricious to even consider that possibility and yet…his numbers were pointing him in that direction.

"Okay," he muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "I need to enrich my data set. I'll have to go back to the beginning."

Tapping a few keys on his desk top computer brought him to the Princeton University website but before he could begin his search there was a knock at the door. Slightly irritated at the interruption, he pushed his chair back from his computer stand and strode across the room to open it. He started to unlock it and then paused remembering what Don had written in his note; it wouldn't hurt to take a few precautions.

"Who is it?" he called out apprehensively.

"It's just me Professor…Lucille," a female voice answered, "I just need to dust and empty the waste cans."

Charlie immediately opened the door and chided himself for being so suspicious; Don's paranoia was beginning to rub off on him.

"Hi Lucy," he said, opening the door to let the plump little woman in. "Sorry about that, I forgot that you would be cleaning the office tonight."

"That's okay Professor." She answered, beaming up at him. "Working late again huh? I think you're the only one left in the building except for Professor Sherwood and she was getting ready to leave when I left her office."

"Really?" Charlie asked. "I got so involved in my work that I hadn't noticed how quiet the building had become." The young man smiled at her and pointed at his computer. "I'd better get back to it or I'll be here all night."

"I'll try not to disturb you." Lucille called after him as she pushed her cleaning cart into the room; she immediately began to empty the two waste cans and then began to dust. The school had a professional cleaning staff on hand for most of the cleaning duties around the campus but they also offered light cleaning jobs for local retirees who wanted to supplement their incomes.

"This is the nicest office in the building." She commented as she dusted around the red and yellow geometric sculpture that was sitting in the middle of the coffee table. She glanced sideways at the young professor who merely nodded absently at her words while he tapped away at the keys on his keyboard; she'd always wanted to ask what the sculpture represented but she sensed that now just wasn't the time. She shook her head in bewilderment at the thing and went on about her work and a few minutes later she was pushing her cart back out into the hallway.

"Good night Professor Eppes."

Charlie's head swiveled in her direction and his eyes met her kindly gaze just before she closed the door. "Good night and thanks Lucille."

He twisted back around and his eyes drifted downward just as the Website of Princeton University popped up on the screen. The familiar black and orange shield flooded his head with memories, bad and good ones, but he pushed them aside as he navigated the site. After keying in his net I.D. number he scrolled immediately to the Alumni section and then typed in the name of the first victim. It had been four months since Henri Yang's death and someone had already updated his biography page to include the news of his demise. Charlie scrolled through the history of his senior year, noting that he took a few classes with some of the other victims but didn't find any class that they had all taken together. He sighed and scrolled through a list of his extracurricular activities but just as before, he found nothing that tied all five victims together.

Charlie leaned his elbow on the computer stand and cupped his chin in his left hand as he stared a Yang's senior picture; there was a sense of familiarity about the man. Puzzled he rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then proceeded to check Henri's junior year classes and activities. The results were the same as before except that this time he also found his own name and photographs among Yang's classmates but never a class that they had all shared.

The professor pushed his chair back and rose to his feet; shrugging out of his blazer he tossed it over one of the chairs before crossing the room to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He took a long drink and then a deep breath before taking his seat again at the desk. He rolled his chair closer to the computer stand and once again tapped a few keys; the history of Henri Yang's sophomore year at Princeton played across the screen. Charlie sighed heavily as the sophomore class pictures scrolled by. He found one class that he had shared with Yang and Brogan and another one that Yang had taken with Crandall but as before none that had them all together.

Charlie clicked on the history of Yang's freshman year and rested both elbows on the stand while he waited for the class photographs to appear on the screen. He bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck, gently kneading his sore neck muscles while he waited for the pictures to download. When he raised his head though he paused in mid-massage as his eyes drifted over the freshman class photos; one picture in particular had caught his eye.

Astonished Charlie's eyebrows disappeared beneath his curls as he leaned forward to study the picture. There it was….. the missing piece of the puzzle and its discovery had left him breathless; in a daze he moved the cursor over the picture, enlarged it and clicked the print button. The printer, located on a shelf beneath the desktop, came to life amid sounds of clunks, thuds and whirling noises, and in only a matter of minutes Charlie was holding a 5 x 7 color print of the class photograph.

The young man covered his mouth with one hand as he silently read the names listed beneath the photograph: Henri Yang, Sylvia Mendoza, James Regan, Jefferson Crandall, Alicia Brogan; not only all five of the victims but they were also pictured in the same order in which they had been killed.

Charlie raised his head and stared at the curtained windows without really seeing them; this had to be the reason why the killer had been crisscrossing the countryside. Whoever he was, the murderer was obsessed with killing the former students in the order that they appeared in this photograph. But why….to what end? What could those five people have possibly done in their freshman year that had lead to their deaths eighteen years later? His gaze dropped back to the picture in his hand and his eyes drifted to Sean Leavens, the student standing beside of Brogan. What if the killer wasn't finished…..what if he was targeting everyone in the first row? His eyes ranged over the remaining people shown standing there; his friend, Thomas Hill, stood next to Sean followed by Charlie and Professor Schiller.

The young professor nervously rubbed two fingers across his lips; his eyes focusing on the picture of Professor Ludwig Schiller." _What were the odds,"_ he thought, _"what were the odds that a former classmate would be murdered on the same day that he saw their former_ professor? _It was just a coincidence…right?"_ One of Einstein's quotes suddenly crossed his mind: "Nothing is random, and nothing is coincidence." He had to agree with Einstein on this one, those two events were not accidental.

With difficulty, he forced his eyes away from the photograph and turned to his computer. Charlie tapped a few keys on his keyboard and looked up Sean Leavens biography; the last entry on his page was dated five years ago and it stated that he had opened a consulting firm in Seattle.

"Seattle." He mused out loud. Schiller had been going to Seattle to attend a seminar on "Real Algebraic Manifolds", a seminar that was being presented at the University of Washington. Was he to believe that this was yet another coincidence….he didn't think so.

Charlie paused a moment to reflect; was he seriously considering the possibility that Professor Schiller was a murderer? He grabbed a pencil and wrote down Sean's phone number and then went back to the homepage for Princeton. He clicked on the current list of professors but couldn't find Schiller's name anywhere; this was odd because even if the professor was on a sabbatical, as he claimed to be, he would still be listed there. Next he clicked on the list of retired Professors and found Schiller's name. Why had he lied…..and more importantly, what else had the man lied about?

Quickly, he exited Princetons's website and googled the University of Washington but after searching for several minutes he couldn't find any seminars on "Real Algebraic Manifolds" that had been scheduled for this week.

Charlie slumped back in his chair; he couldn't believe what he was seeing, the circumstantial evidence that he had uncovered was quickly adding up to an unbelievable scenario that he was having trouble assimilating. Charlie had never liked Schiller but he certainly never thought that the man was capable of murder…and yet logic was telling him otherwise. He glanced sideways at the photograph on his desk and stared at the picture of Schiller. If his former professor really did go to Seattle then it was logical to assume that Sean was going to be his next victim. Eleven days had passed between the Crandall and Brogan murders so if Schiller continued to follow that pattern then he had time to warn Sean and Tom. Charlie rolled his chair over to his desk and lifted the handset of his desk phone; after he punched in Sean's number he picked up his pen and nervously tapped it against the desk while he waited for him to answer the phone. How was he going to get Sean to believe him…..maybe he should have called Don first?

The phone rang twice and then an automated message answered; "I'm sorry but you have reached a disconnected number. If you believe that you have reached this message in error, please hang up and call the operator."

"It must have been an old number." Charlie muttered crossly. He rolled his chair back over to the computer and tapped a few keys, googling Sean's name in Seattle in an effort to get a working number for him. Much to his surprise the only reference to a Sean Leavens that he could find was an obituary notice. He held his breath as he clicked on the notice; it had to be another Sean Leavens….right…it just couldn't be the one that was in the photograph.

"Oh God." He whispered in anguish and covered his mouth with his hand as he scrolled through the notice. "Murdered in his office early Wednesday morning…graduated from Princeton University in 1992….no arrests have been made at this time."

Charlie swallowed hard and looked away, stunned by his discovery. The murders were escalating; Sean and Alicia's murders were only two days apart not eleven. Suddenly his eyes jerked back to the picture and his friend Thomas Hill.

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed out loud. "Castle Rock is only three hours from Seattle!" He rose from his chair in a panic and hurried over to the chair where he had tossed his blazer. Frantically he searched through his jacket pockets until he found his cell phone and quickly scrolled through his contact list: he'd call and warn Tom first and then contact Don with his discovery.

Phone to his ear, Charlie paced back and forth in front of the windows: he nervously scrubbed a hand through his curls while he waited for his friend to pick up the phone.

"Come on Tom…pick up." He hissed desperately as he listened to it ring but as before Tom's voice mail answered his call.

"Tom, this is Charlie and you've got to listen to me!" Charlie cried out urgently, stopping in mid-stride. "I know this is going to sound crazy but you have to believe me. You're in danger and you have to get out of there….go to the police…or…or somewhere that you are not alone. If Professor Schiller from Princeton shows up….run! The man is killing his former students…please! Tom….you have to hurry!" The sound of a beep signaled the end to his message and he cried out in desperation. "No…no…don't cut me off!"

Charlie ended the call and suddenly the silence in the room seemed almost palpable. He stared blankly at his desk as a wave of despair enveloped him like a blanket and he bowed his head; the hand holding the phone dropping listlessly to his side. "What if I'm too late?" he whispered in anguish but just as quickly he shook his head fiercely, denying that very thought.

"No, I won't believe that." The young man cried out loud, strengthening his resolve. "I've got to call Don."

The words had barely escaped his lips when Charlie heard a noise behind him. His head snapped up and he went cold inside as he heard the gentle thud of the door closing behind him followed immediately by a dull metallic click when the lock was snapped in place.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

By the Dawn's Early Light

By 1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for your reviews. I truly appreciate them.

Spoilers: The Arrow of Time

"_There are so many kinds of madness, so many ways in which the human brain may go wrong: and so often it happens that what we call madness is both reasonable and just. It is so. Yes. A little reason is good for us, a little more makes wise men of some of us—but when our reason over-grows us and we reach too far, something breaks and we go insane._

_James Oliver Curwood_

Chapter 16:

"Hey, Dad." Don said wearily as he closed the front door behind him. He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the couch before coming to a stop beside of his father's chair.

"Donnie." Alan replied looking up from the stack of paperwork that he was working on. "Did Robin's plane take off on time?"

"Yeah, the flight was on time for a change," Don replied sarcastically, "I should write this date down because it will probably never happen again."

Alan chuckled. "You may be right."

"I could use a beer." Don said turning toward the kitchen. "You want one Dad?"

Alan shook his head. "No thanks, I'm good."

Don disappeared momentarily but when he returned he was carrying a bottle of water instead of a beer. At his father's arched eyebrows, he just shrugged and commented. "Changed my mind. "

"Oh. " Alan nodded thoughtfully and pretended to return his attention back to the paperwork in his hand. He knew his son well; Don needed to talk but at his own pace so he patiently waited for him to start the conversation.

"What's all that?" The agent asked with a nod at the multitude of papers on his father's lap.

"Oh, this?" Alan asked, glancing down at the pages in his hand. "This is a synopsis of a new CAD program that my boss is considering purchasing. She wanted me to look it over and give her my opinion on Monday."

"So what do you think?" His son asked curiously. "Is it a good one?"

"I won't know that until I finish it." Alan replied; removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"You don't sound very excited Dad?" Don commented, noting the weary tone of his father's voice.

Alan shrugged and put his glasses back on before answering. "I've seen better but like I said I haven't finished it yet_."_ He peered over the tops of his glasses and frowned as he took in Don's appearance.

"You look awful. What's going on?"

"Nothing, just tired I guess." Don muttered as he sat down in the chair opposite his father and restlessly picked at the label on the bottle. Even though he was busy with the serial murders, the Henderson case remained an open issue for him or more accurately, the way he handled it remained an issue between him and his brother.

The agent risked a glance at his Dad. He knew his father had been worried, no, not just worried, scared was the word used by Alan upon discovering that Don had been targeted by another killer but now that the man was back in prison his Dad appeared to be more at ease and that haunted look of fear had finally left his eyes.

"One down and one to go." Don mumbled inaudibly. He still needed to close the gap that had grown between him and Charlie…. the rift that had been created by his actions during the Henderson case.

Charlie had confronted Don and accused him of handling the Henderson case the way he had run the Buck Winters case and in retrospect he knew that his brother was right ….to a certain degree anyway. This time his team had been fully involved in the case with the exception of Charlie, Don had limited his exposure to the case. The last time that he and Charlie had really talked about it was before they had captured the criminal and not only anger had shown in his eyes but hurt had been reflected in them as well. His brother had pointedly reminded him of the Buck Winters case and told him to remember what he had said at that time before storming out of his office; Don's thoughts drifted back to that time and Charlie's words echoed clearly in his mind.

"_You already know where to find Buck. Why didn't you call and tell me that he escaped?" _Don mumbled something about math not applying in that particular situation which had prompted another outburst from him. _"Five years down the road and you still don't realize that there's always math? What in the hell's wrong with you?" _

Don devised his own plan to catch Buck and had been trying to keep his brother from finding out about it until it was over, which was why he pushed him away in the first place. But despite his best efforts, Charlie figured it out anyway so he tried to explain that he had everything under control by quoting a sermon that he had heard at the Temple the night before the escape. Charlie's eyes had flashed angrily. "_How are you controlling this situation by shutting me out? "_and then in a quieter tone he pleaded. "_You ought to think about what you are about to do. Think about the regrets you'll have two years from now. " _

Regrets…well he certainly had them now but his brother's time span was off; it had only been two weeks not two years and they were from the Henderson case not the Winters. There were no regrets with Buck's case, that worked out exactly the way he wanted it too but with this last one he was ready to admit that he might have been wrong and that he should have listened to his brother. Don clung to the hope that Charlie would understand and that he could mend the rift that his actions had opened between them but to do that he needed to talk to him and so far all of his efforts had failed.

The agent glanced at his watch and took another sip of water. It was eight o'clock; his brother should have been home by now. Don glanced sideways at his father and cleared his throat before asking. "Where's Charlie tonight? I thought he would be home by now."

"He called me around six and said that he would be working late tonight. Your brother said he needed to catch up on a few things; it seems he got behind in his own work while he was filling in for that other professor." Alan's leaned forward conspiratorily . "Between you and me I think he misses Amita and is putting off coming home to an empty house."

Don smiled sadly; his eyes flickering to the side. "You think that's it, huh?"

Alan's eyes narrowed suspiciously; he hadn't missed his son's melancholy tone. He set his paperwork aside and leaned back focusing all of his attention on his son. "Is something going on between you and Charlie? Do you have another case for him?"

Don shook his head. "Charlie has been working on a case for us Dad."

"But?" Alan arched his eyebrows and pressed his son for more information.

"But….. I haven't seen or talked to him for a while." Don confessed. "Actually I've worked more with Larry than with him this week."He paused and looked away. "I think he's avoiding me Dad."

"Donnie." Alan huffed, removing his glasses. "He's just had a busy week and besides he likes working with you." He put his glasses back on and studied his son's face."Why would you think that he's avoiding you?"

Don stood up and paced restlessly around the room. "I don't know…..I sort of pushed him away during that whole Henderson thing."

Alan looked shocked. "I know you had a lot on your mind during that time but why would you do that? " His forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. "I thought he helped you with that case."

Don stuck both of his hands into his jeans pockets and his shoulders slumped as he stopped in front of his father's chair. "He did, but David and Liz worked with him and when he came to the office to see me, I …I brushed him off."

"Donnie!" Alan admonished. "Your brother was worried about you and you couldn't even spare him a moment?"

Don turned and in a slightly annoyed tone of voice remarked. "I guess I just wasn't in the mood to listen to any of his theories. "

Alan dropped his head and rubbed a hand over his face and whispered. "Oh, Donnie…Donnie."

Don sat back down across from him and leaned forward. "What? Did I miss something?"

Alan looked up and sighed. "Don, is math all you see when you look at your brother?"

Wrinkles appeared on the agent's forehead as he searched for an answer. He couldn't tell his Dad the truth; he didn't want him to know how much danger Charlie had been in.

"I don't understand your question." He said defensively. "Charlie wouldn't be Charlie without the math."

"Donnie, why can't you separate the man from the math, your brother from the Professor?"

Don scoffed. "That would be like separating light from day. They're one in the same Dad."

Alan ran a hand over his grizzled face and leaned forward. "Listen to me. You mean the world to your brother, you always have. All of his life he has tried to get you to see him for himself, not for the things that he can do. " He paused, shaking his head slowly. "Quite frankly, I thought he had finally succeeded but now I'm not so sure."

"I…I love Charlie, Dad. He's my brother." Don replied defensively.

"I know that you love him Donnie but you haven't really taken the time to get to know him." Alan raised a hand as his son started to speak. "Underneath that confident exterior of our genius mathematician is a loving son and a younger brother that still idolizes his big brother. That side of him was hidden from us for many years because it was easier for you and me to let your mother understand him, especially as he grew older."

"Come on Dad." Don responded uncomfortably. "He's a grown man; he doesn't still feel that way." "_Especially after the way I've treated him lately_." He thought ruefully to himself.

"I've made mistakes Donnie." Alan sighed sadly and shook his head. "I can see that now, both with you and your brother, but I'm trying to make up for them. With Charlie, I've been trying to make more of an effort to understand his world and in doing so I have discovered a loving son, not just a genius mathematician. A son that I thought would never be able to return my love, but he has surprised me and I have gained a greater insight into understanding him."

Don opened his mouth to speak but Alan held up his hand again so that he could finish. "Charlie himself has gained a deeper insight of you and me. Whereas before, he would have pushed us away during an emotional crisis and turned to his numbers, he now turns to us and listens to our advice. I think working with you has given him a better perception of the real world and that people are more important than numbers."

The elder Eppes grew silent and studied his older son. He looked tired and confused and Alan wasn't sure what else he could say to help him.

Don swallowed and looked away. "What do you think I should do?"

"I can't answer that Donnie. Only you can come to terms with your feelings. When was the last time that you spoke with him?"

"The other day at the office, we made plans to have dinner." Don paused to take a sip of water. "But on the way there I caught that bank robbery and I forgot about the dinner. I stood him up and didn't even remember it until the next morning. We've been playing phone tag ever since."

Alan studied him for a moment. I'm sure that he understands about that Donnie? " When Don looked away without answering he decided to backtrack. "Let's go back to the Henderson case." Alan said scratching his chin thoughtfully. "How did he sound when you told him about the man's capture?"

Don's face was flushed with embarrassment when he turned back. "I called you….I figured that you would tell him."

Alan covered his face with his hands and a muffled "Oh Donnie" escaped between his fingers.

"You did tell him. Right, Dad?" Don asked anxiously.

Alan dropped his hands and shook his head. "Charlie wasn't home when you called and I didn't see him until breakfast." Alan was silent for a moment. "Now I understand his reaction when I mentioned it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we were having coffee and I remember commenting on how relieved I was that Henderson was back in jail and now that I think of it, Charlie had looked really surprised. I just assumed that you had called him the night before."

Don rubbed his chin nervously. "What did he do then?"

"He looked relieved at first but then a sad expression crossed his face and when I asked him what was wrong he just pushed it off as a headache. Shortly after that he said he had to hurry, something about an early meeting." Alan looked sadly at his oldest. "So that means that Charlie worried about you all night and then got another surprise when he found out that you and Robin had left the next morning on an impromptu vacation."

Despondent, Don glanced away and then mumbled. "I didn't mean to hurt him Dad."

"Donnie. " Alan said softly. "I know that you have your own issues to deal with but I can't help but think that if you could come to terms with your brother then maybe you could deal with those demons a lot easier."

"But we are…I mean we have. We were at a good place until that case Dad." He scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. "What do you think I should do?"

Alan sighed. "It may not be that easy. Rejection is a tough emotion to get over, especially coming from someone that you care about. You may have a harder time than you think."

Don dropped his eyes and stared at his shoes for a moment as he thought about a solution.

"Well, do you know if he is doing anything this weekend? With both Amita and Robin out of town maybe I can get him to go golfing or something, and we can work this out." Don glanced at his watch. "It's eight fifteen; do you think he'll be home soon?"

Alan shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "I don't know son. I guess it all depends on how much he has to do to get caught up."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow and straighten things out." Glancing sideways at his Dad he noticed the weary slump of Alan's shoulders and the dark circles beneath his eyes. "You look really tired Dad; maybe you should hit the sack early tonight. I'll catch up with you tomorrow and I promise that I'll straighten things out with Charlie."

"I hate to agree with you but I think you're right, I am getting pretty sleepy." Alan said, stifling a yawn. He groaned softly as he stood up and arched his back to work out a few kinks' and lamented. "It sure doesn't take long for my back to get stiff these days."

"Get some sleep Dad." Don said softly. "Actually that sounds like a good idea for me too."

Alan watched as Don grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. "Good luck son."

Don turned and met his father's gaze. "Thanks Dad." He replied ruefully. "Something tells me that I'm going to need all of the luck that I can get. "

**000000000000000000000**

Charlie turned around slowly, his eyes flitting briefly over the desk and Don's note; too late he recalled his brother's descriptions of the man that he had seen lurking around his office that afternoon, they would fit Schiller perfectly. A cold shiver suddenly ran up his spine because he knew all too well who was standing behind him.

"Good evening Professor Eppes." Ludwig's voice was pleasant enough but his eyes were cold and calculating; his head swiveled around to scan the whole office before meeting his gaze again. "Very impressive. It would appear that you have done well."

"Ah…Professor Schiller." Charlie replied, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. "I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage. I wasn't aware that we had an appointment this evening.**" **He shifted nervously from foot to foot, trying to gauge the man's reaction but his old professor just crossed his arms and stood silently behind the couch.

"You know…ah….as a matter of fact I was just leaving." Charlie said anxiously, hoping to bluff his way out of the situation. Slowly he took a few steps closer to the edge of the sofa, eyeing the distance to the door. "Perhaps we can get together another time."

It was unnerving how the man just stood there, seemingly weighing and measuring him. It was almost like Schiller was teaching a class except for two things; the plastic gloves that he was wearing and the gun in his hand. Charlie had to think of something fast or he was going to end up like his former classmates. His mind was whirling; what to do? The cell phone, he was still holding the phone, he could hit the speed dial for his brother's phone and let him hear what was going on. It had worked once before and Don and the team had hurried to his rescue. All he had to do was move one finger…..

"Open your palm and let the phone drop to the floor." Schiller ordered coldly.

Charlie had just rounded the corner of the couch but paused when Schiller pointed the gun at him. He swallowed hard and stammered fearfully "What….what are you doing?"

"I overheard your phone conversation Professor so it's useless to play this game." Ludwig informed him tilting his head to the side as he studied the young man. "I must say that you have caught me by surprise. I suppose I should have considered the possibility that your brother would be working on the Brogan case and that you would be consulting for him."

Charlie's face paled suddenly at the mention of his phone call to Tom." I was too late." He agonized in a barely audible voice. Grief-stricken over his sudden realization he turned his head and closed his eyes. When he turned back to face Schiller a few seconds later his eyes glowed with unshed tears but he set his jaw as anger began to course through him.

"Tom….Tom is already dead or you wouldn't be standing here now." Charlie cried out bitterly. It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact; one that he knew in his heart was true. "You bastard!" Charlie shouted furiously, clenching his fists and surging forward recklessly.

"Stop!" Ludwig commanded, waving the gun around to get his attention.

Charlie was seething with anger but he paused in mid-step at the sight of the gun; in his anguish over Tom he had totally forgotten about the revolver.

"Okay…okay," Charlie said, raising his hands. "Don't get nervous."

Schiller eyed him coldly and then motioned with the gun. "I 'm not going to say it again," he snarled, "drop… the…. phone!"

Charlie opened his hand and the phone dropped to the floor with a loud clatter. _"So much for contacting Don,"_ he thought grimly. They were only a few feet apart now and Charlie knew all too well how this was going to end unless he could toss in a few unexpected variables. "_Think, Charlie, think,"_ he told himself frantically, "_what did I learn in that FBI self defense class that I can use now?"_ He licked his lips nervously and when Schiller used his foot to kick the phone beneath the couch Charlie made his move.

While Schiller was looking down Charlie turned sideways and rammed his shoulder into the man causing him to lose his balance. Briefly his arms wind milled in an effort to stay on his feet but in the end he fell forward over the top of the couch and dropped the gun on the cushions below.

Charlie had a brief moment of hesitation; go for the gun or the door but quickly decided that in all probability the other man could grab the gun before he made it to the couch. Desperately Charlie raced for the door before Schiller could gain his feet again. A loud roar erupted behind him just as he made it to the door and with hands trembling from fear and the sudden adrenaline rush he released the lock. Charlie turned the door handle and caught a brief glimpse of the hallway and freedom before the first blow sent him reeling against the door forcing it to slam shut with a loud bang. The sudden searing pain from a second blow set his back on fire and took his breath away but it was the one across the back of his legs that brought him to his knees. There was a sudden roaring in his ears and blackness appeared at the edge of his mind threatening to engulf him and yet he fought to remain conscious. He was vaguely aware of Schiller standing over him, yelling and brandishing something in his hand and although Charlie was trying to clear his vision the man kept swimming in and out of focus. He struggled to rise but hit the floor hard when his feet were suddenly kicked out from under him and he sprawled face down on the wooden floor; the wood felt cool beneath his cheek and he was sure that was the only reason that he was still conscious.

Ludwig rolled him over until he was lying on his back then grabbed his ankles and started dragging him across the floor. The pain in his back and legs intensified as he was drug forward but a few minutes later he released a shuddering breath when, with a loud thud, he's feet were dropped unceremoniously to the floor. He opened his eyes as the room began to spin around him but closed them quickly to fight the feeling of nausea that suddenly assailed him. Charlie swallowed thickly and fought to overcome the feeling, trying to take slow, even breaths while he listened to Schiller shout and pace angrily nearby.

He could only understand a few of the words that the old man was yelling and those weren't making any sense to him. As the pain subsided his mind began to clear and words like _"_**my precious time**_"_ and "**ungrateful, spoiled**….began to register in his brain but it was all out of context for him and sounded like nothing more than the rantings of a madman.

Charlie opened his eyes and stared upward but began to blink rapidly when he suddenly saw stars; he calmed down a moment later when he realized that he was looking at real stars. Schiller had dropped him next to the bookshelf on the left side of the room and from the angle that he was laying he could see the stars through the small windows above the case.

Charlie rolled his head slowly to see where Ludwig was before he tried to get up but the man didn't seem to notice him. The young man frowned as he watched Schiller; he had the unsettling feeling that his former professor was carrying on a conversation with…. himself? He cautiously stretched out his hands and gripped one of the shelves, sparing another glance at Schiller before rising to a sitting position. Forcibly stifling a groan he quietly curled his legs beneath him and began to pull himself up. The pain flared up but it wasn't quite as bad as before so he gritted his teeth and hand over hand he continued his struggle. Sweat was beading up on his forehead by the time he managed to stand up; he didn't feel quite so helpless now even though he had to lean sideways against the shelves to keep from falling. So far Schiller hadn't noticed his struggle and continued to rant and rave. Charlie glanced toward the door and with a sinking heart realized that avenue of escape was no longer a viable plan; he was younger and stronger than the man but after the assault, Schiller clearly had the upper hand in their physical abilities….at least until he regained his strength. With a trembling hand he pushed a few sweat-soaked curls out of his eyes and tried to come up with another plan. The building was empty so no one was going to hear him if he tried to call out for help unless he could time it for when the campus security guards made their rounds. Of course he would have to find some way to fend off Schiller if he chose to yell because any resistance would obviously prompt another brutal attack from the man.

Hands suddenly gripped his shirt and slammed his back into the bookshelf forcing an unsolicited groan to escape his lips. Anger suddenly flared within him overriding the pain as he gritted his teeth and met Ludwig's stare.

"Why…..why….are you…doing..this?" He gasped out; seeking some kind of rationale for the man's behavior but Ludwig just met his stare without answering. Charlie desperately searched the man's face for a sign that he had understood him but his anger and hope faded abruptly when he found none. His expressive brown eyes widened with terror when he realized that Schiller's hazel eyes no longer reflected any sign of intelligence but were glowing from some inner madness.

"Oh God!" Charlie exclaimed in horror. "You're insane!"

"Don't say that!" Ludwig hissed vehemently, spittle flying from his mouth. Schiller's face darkened and contorted with unbridled rage; he reacted viciously, without warning, and violently backhanded the young man.

Charlie's head snapped to the side, hitting the bookshelf with such force that he cut his temple; a blinding white light burst in his skull, followed immediately by the darkness that earlier he had fought so hard to resist. There was no resistance now; his eyes rolled back in his head as it engulfed him and he dropped to the floor with a loud thud; books & pictures were splattered with his blood marking his passage downward.

Schiller continued to rant at the young professor, completely unaware that Charlie was unconscious and could no longer hear him. He paced furiously in front of the windows, arms flying madly in all directions as he cursed his former student for daring to utter those "despicable" words.

If it had not been Friday night, students as well as Professors might have gazed in bewilderment at the animated shadow in Dr. Eppes's office and out of concern for the young man would have gone up to investigate the strange apparition for the professor was not prone to that sort of behavior.

But it was the beginning of the weekend and most of the student's had escaped the campus to party or visit their families and the other Professors weary from the week's activities had all gone home for a well deserved two-day rest.

The campus security guards would surely have gone up to investigate the odd behavior but at that moment they were patrolling the other end of the campus unaware that Professor Eppes was engaged in a life and death struggle.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

_By the Dawn's Early Light _

_By 1__st__ Endeavor_

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: I truly appreciate your reviews.

Chapter 17:

"Drink it slowly." The speaker ordered quietly, his voice full of concern and compassion. "Easy now….not too fast."

Anxiously, Charlie's brows drew together in puzzlement; something was terribly wrong, even in his current state of semi-consciousness he felt threatened and knew that his life was in jeopardy. The sense of danger was growing stronger with each breath that he took even though he could hear laughter, the sounds of numerous voices and a variety of music coming from somewhere behind him. Nothing was making any sense to him and his normal world of logic was beginning to spiral into chaos; part of his mind wanted to believe that he was having a nightmare, that what he was experiencing was nothing more than a dream. The other part however filled him with a sense of dread and urgency, warning him to wake up before it was too late.

But despite his suspicions he couldn't control his physical need for water and he eagerly licked his lips for more of the welcome liquid. It felt so good sliding down his throat that for a few moments he forgot about his misgivings and relaxed under the ministrations of the mysterious speaker.

**0000000000000000000**

Absently, Don flicked on his turn signal and headed for the 10; part of his thoughts still focused on how to resolve the issue with his brother and get their relationship back to where it had been before Jake Henderson had escaped from prison. He had been wrong to push Charlie away at that time, Don readily admitted that fact now, and wanted to make amends.

Tomorrow was Saturday and he actually had the weekend off for a change and with both Robin and Amita away it would be the perfect opportunity for them to get together and work out their issues. Maybe he could get Charlie to go to a ballgame or go hiking in the Angeles forest; his eyes lit up suddenly, that was the answer,…. hiking. His brother loved to hike and they could be alone without interruptions because there wasn't much cell service up in the mountains. It was short notice but he just might be able to get Charlie to agree to it. His mood darkened though as he stopped for a red traffic light._ "If I can get Charlie to even talk to me_."

Don sighed heavily as the light changed to green and he pulled ahead; keeping pace with the rest of the traffic. He glanced at his watch and frowned; it was only eight fifty and he really wasn't that tired yet, he'd only told his Dad that he was ready for bed because the man needed to get some rest. The agent brought the SUV to another stop and impatiently tapped his fingers on the steering wheel while he waited for the light to change again. The vehicle surged ahead a minute later; one more block until his exit and then he would leave Pasadena behind him for the night.

Don checked his rear view mirror and changed lanes but as he approached the interstate entrance ramp something else caught his eye; the fluorescent sign of a small pizzeria.

Suddenly he began to think like an FBI agent and a strategy began to form in his mind. As a grin began to spread across his face, he switched lanes and veered off of the road, pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant.

**000000000000000000**

Charlie's eyes were still closed even though he had been trying to open them. The soft voice was reassuring although he couldn't seem to put a name or a face to his mysterious caregiver and yet his sense of unease continued to mount. He tried to rub his forehead but his arms felt heavy and unresponsive and he felt a renewed sense of panic surge through him; something was terribly wrong and he needed to find out what was going on. He doubled his efforts to open his eyes and managed to get them partly open just as a gentle hand cradled the back of his head to lean it back so that he could take another drink of water.

"That's better now, isn't it?" The strange voice whispered softly near his ear.

Charlie swallowed the water quickly this time and turned his head in the direction of the speaker in a desperate attempt to see who was touching him but the man had turned around to set the bottle on his desk. His vision was becoming clearer; almost normal, as he guardedly watched the man's back. Charlie's eyes widened suddenly as his former professor turned around to face him …. and with a start he remembered everything.

A shudder passed through him as Ludwig looked down at him, briefly meeting his gaze, but then much to his surprise the man's eyes drifted upward to view something behind him and he abruptly burst into laughter.

"That has always been one of my favorite episodes." He remarked, chuckling fondly.

"Ep….episodes?" Charlie stuttered in bewilderment, shaking his head slightly. "I…I...don't…understand."

The young man tried to turn around but was dismayed to discover that the only thing he could move was his head. He was sitting in a chair with his arms wrapped around the back of it; hands tied tightly together. The laughter and voices that he had heard upon awakening were apparently coming from his TV set that was located on a table near the door to his office. Something else caught his eye as he glanced around the room; it appeared darker than usual and then he noticed the windows, the heavy drapes had been pulled together, covering the light sheers beneath them.

"Carol Burnett." Ludwig was saying with a nod of his head toward the TV; drawing his attention back to the man.

"This one is a classic." Chuckling, he leaned casually against Charlie's desk and crossed his arms across his chest, "Her "Gone with the Wind" parody is just hilarious and when she comes down the stairs in a gown made from the drapes….. with the curtain rod still attached no less….I lose it every time," waving a hand excitedly in front of him he urged. "Wait….here it comes." Ludwig's eyes lit up with anticipation and then suddenly he laughed out loud, his whole body shaking uncontrollably with laughter.

Speechless, Charlie gaped in astonishment at his old professor; totally blown away by the stark change in the man's demeanor. Schiller's laughter was genuine, he decided; the warmth and mirth emanating from the man's eyes was undeniable and yet earlier his eyes had seemed dead, void of all emotion; the realization sent his mind reeling.

Schiller was laughing so hard that he was crying and as the young man watched he removed his glasses and wiped at his eyes while he continued to laugh at the show. Charlie swallowed hard, darting his eyes sideways as he fought against an overwhelming surge of panic.

"_What was he dealing with here….some type of psychotic break?"_ He stole a furtive glance at Schiller but the man was still immersed in the show and didn't appear to notice Charlie's appraising gaze. _"It's almost like I'm watching two different people…one affable and the other… a killer." _

Staring at the floor without really seeing it he frantically mulled over the probabilities; the philosophical implications of a dual personality were overwhelming. Robert Louis Stevenson's _The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and_ _Mr. Hyde_ came to mind and he found Schiller's similarity to that character stunning. Is that what his former professor had become; a man with a dual personality, one that alternated between phases of good and evil behavior?

A pair of feet moved through his field of vision. Startled he followed the man's steps as he moved around to the front of Charlie's desk and pushed his chair aside. Abruptly Schiller began to clear it off, carelessly shoving everything out of his way and over the edges of the desk.

Helplessly he watched as his personal items, student papers and Don's case folder began to litter the floor. One piece of paper in particular caught his eye and he followed its progress as it fluttered in the air and landed at his feet; it was the photograph that he had printed out earlier. The faces of his former classmates seemed to stare up at him. Faces, that in his agitated state of mind, tried to warn him of the trial that he still had before him…..one that they had all faced and failed.

With a loud crash his hourglass hit the floor, shattering, sending bits and pieces of glass and wood flying in all directions; its sand nearly obliterating the picture.

Charlie shivered and tasted bile as he slowly raised his head and met Schiller's cold stare; the evil persona clearly in control now.

"_Oh God_!" He thought, his heart hammering loudly in his years. Charlie dropped his gaze, letting his eyes drift to the photograph on the floor. _"What could he possibly do that they hadn't already tried?"_

**000000000000000000**

At nine-fifteen Don rolled into the parking lot at CalSci and parked alongside of his brother's Prius. Not that there was a shortage of parking spaces, until his arrival, Charlie's car had been the only one there.

"_Good, he's still here_" he thought to himself. Why wait until tomorrow, he had decided, when he could take care of this tonight, and if Charlie held true to form and Don was sure that he had then he probably hadn't eaten any dinner. The pizza just might be the thing he needed to "break the ice" and help Don get his brother to agree to go hiking with him.

Don grabbed a paper bag holding two Pepsi's and the box of pizza and climbed out of the SUV. With the bag in one hand and the pizza box in the other he headed for the sidewalk but he had only rounded the hood of his car when someone called out to him.

"Hey Don."

Startled, the agent turned in surprise but his face immediately broke into a smile. "I didn't know that you were working here Grady?" His eyebrows rose slightly as the man wandered under the street light. "New uniform huh?"

White-haired Grady Benson nodded and grinned at him. "I still prefer the blue to this gray but I gotta do something to supplement my pension, figured I'd stay with something I knew."

Don had known Grady when he was with the LAPD but had lost track of him after his retirement several years ago. He had been one of LAPD's finest and Don was finding it strangely comforting to learn that he was now a security officer where his brother worked.

"Makes sense. How many rounds do you have to make?"

Normally Grady wouldn't answer that question but he knew Don and he also knew why he was concerned; he would have asked the same question if his brother was working here. "Only two, the next one isn't until 5:00 a.m."

Don gave him an incredulous look. "Only two?"

"Cut backs." The older man stated, as a matter of fact, "there are only two of us on a shift and it takes us a while to check out the campus."

Don huffed. "Cut backs huh? I see that more and more these days. The truth is I'm not so sure that it's such a great idea."

Grady just nodded and then glanced up at the lighted windows of the Math building. "Looks like you're brother's working late again."

"As usual and he's probably starving to death by now." The agent replied looking up but when he glanced back he noticed a frown on the officer's face.

"What's wrong?" He asked tensing up as his eyes drifted back to the windows.

Grady shrugged as Don met his gaze. "Probably nothing. It's just that the Professor doesn't normally close the heavy drapes in his office but I guess tonight he wanted a little more privacy."

"Right." Don agreed, suddenly feeling anxious. "I'm sure that's what it is." His thoughts turned to his encounter with the man outside of his brother's office and his uneasiness began to grow.

"Hmm, sure smells good."

Startled, Don glanced at the Pizza box in his hands. "Oh. I'm sorry, would you like a slice?"

Grady chuckled and patted his bulging belly. "No thanks. I promised the wife I would lose some weight and besides I'm still on duty." He waved a hand toward the Math building. "Come on, I'll unlock the door for you."

"Thanks."

The agent had forgotten that the outside door was locked at nine p.m. on Friday nights. Of course, Charlie had a key to the building and he could have called for his brother to let him in but Don felt that it was better this way…for two reasons. One, it didn't give his brother a chance to refuse his visit over the phone and two; he hoped that it would be a pleasant surprise for him.

Carefully juggling the pizza box and sodas Don hurried over to the elevator and in just a few minutes he was striding up the hallway toward his brother's office. The building appeared to be deserted; every office that he passed was dark, their owners having enough sense to go home for the day. The hallways were sparsely lit but there was still enough light for him to make his way through the quiet building; his footsteps echoing eerily around the empty hallways.

The agent stopped in front of his brother's door and tucked the drinks in the crook of his arm so he could knock on the door. He balled his fist to rap on the door but hesitated when he heard voices; maybe he wasn't alone after all. Don held his breath and quietly put his ear to the door but he was grinning a second later when he realized that his brother's TV set was on. Relieved, he gave the door two quick raps and called out Charlie's name before trying to open it. However, the door remained firm and unyielding to his efforts. Although pleased that Charlie had taken his advice and was keeping the door locked, he was becoming irritated that his brother had still not opened the door.

Don frowned and called out his brother's name again. Louder this time, as well as knocking on the door again. He silently prayed that Charlie wasn't wearing his head phones and listening to loud music as well as having the TV on while he was working; if that was the case then Charlie would never hear him knocking at the door. He dismissed the idea though when he put an ear to the door and couldn't hear any other music besides what was playing on the TV set.

He rapped on the door again but there was still no answer to his calls or any sign of movement. Don's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement but then a moment later he grinned. "_Ha,_" he thought, "_I bet he's fallen asleep."_

Don tried to peer through the beveled glass panels on the door but it had such a dark tint to it that he couldn't see anything but shadows.

"Wake up Chuck! It's time to eat." Don yelled and pounded harder on the door.

**00000000000000000000**

Charlie's head jerked up in a panic. "_No!_ _Not Don_," he agonized inwardly, he couldn't let his brother get caught up in this madness.

Ludwig had moved to his side as soon as Don started pounding on the door and panic suddenly filled his expressive brown eyes as he glanced up at Schiller. He opened his mouth to shout out a warning but Ludwig reacted quickly and covered his mouth with his hand; grabbing a handful of his curls with the other he viciously shoved Charlie's head back against the chair.

With his hand still tightly covering the younger man's mouth, Schiller moved around so he could face Charlie.

"Who is it?" He spat out; uncovering Charlie's mouth and giving his hair another jerk to force out an answer.

"I…I…don't know." Charlie lied; wincing from the tight grip that Schiller had on his hair; moisture glistened in his eyes as Ludwig tightened his hold on his curls."Honest," he added panting against the pain, "I wasn't expecting anyone."

Ludwig stared at him and then pulled the revolver from his pocket. He placed the barrel against Charlie's temple and lowered his face to within a few inches of the young man; his cold eyes boring into the younger man's frightened ones.

"Get… rid…. of ….him." He hissed vehemently.

There was another loud knock at the door before Charlie called out tentatively to his brother.

"Go away! I…I can't see anyone tonight." Charlie pleaded emphatically, hoping that his brother would take the hint. I have a lot of work to do."

Unexpectedly, Schiller turned his chair around so that he was facing the door and Charlie's heart sank a little at the sight of Don's shadowy figure; it was clearly visible through the glass panes of the door.

"Come on Charlie. Look, I know you're upset with me. Let me come in and I'll explain everything." Don pleaded as he gave the door knob another twist.

With a desperate look at Schiller, Charlie tried again. "I'm not upset. I just….I just have a lot of work to do. Go home." He swallowed nervously. "I'll call you in the morning. Now go away!"

Fear twisted in his heart; Charlie had to convince his brother to leave or the older man might shoot him.

Don's calm voice answered him. "I've got pizza. Come on Buddy, it's going to get cold and we both know how you hate cold pizza."

Concerned for his brother's safety, Charlie tried again in a firmer tone of voice. "Please go away. I promise I'll call you in the morning but right now I really don't have time for this."

Undaunted, Don pounded on the door. "Look Charlie, even a genius has to eat."

The agent was growing impatient now. "I'm tired of this. If you don't open the door, I'll get one of the campus security guards to do it for you. You know I can do it Charlie. All I have to do is show them my badge."

Ludwig Schiller jabbed the gun into the young professor's chest with enough force to make him gasp."You lied to me!" he snarled. "That's your brother, the FBI agent!" Deliberately, the man raised his arm and pointed the gun toward the door.

"No…wait…..please!" Charlie cried out frantically; it was no use to pretend, Schiller had found him out. "If….if…you pull that trigger the security guards will come running and you won't be able to finish what you've started." Breathlessly, he waited, hoping that he had read the man correctly. If he was right the man's desire to complete his task would override anything else. _"Please," _he prayed desperately, "_please_ _let me be right_."

Ludwig just stared at him, seething with cold fury as he thought over what Charlie had said. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity he lowered the gun and pointed it once again at the young professor.

"Tell him again!"

Charlie didn't need any encouragement; he knew he had to get his brother out of harm's way, no matter what it took. "We're through Don." He yelled harshly. "I don't have a brother anymore…nor do I want one. I'm tired of trying…now go away!" He closed his eyes in anguish and hoped that someday Don would come to realize that he hadn't meant those words because he didn't believe that he would ever have a chance to explain it to him.

"You don't mean that?" Don asked hoarsely, shocked by his brother's outburst.

"Yes I do. Now please go home!" Charlie pleaded with him and this time he was unable to hide the desperation in his voice.

Don set his jaw stubbornly. "You can forget about that idea." He spoke calmly, but he hadn't missed the desperate tone in his brother's voice and he was beginning to get a gut feeling; a feeling that told him there was something very wrong going on behind that locked door. "I'm not leaving here until I see you so you might as well let me come inside."

Charlie's reluctance to open the door had his FBI senses sending off multiple alarm bells to his brain and there was no way that he was leaving there without seeing his brother face to face.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By 1__st__ Endeavor_

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for your reviews and alerts.

Chapter 18:

Don's resolve suddenly faded; he was all set to pound the door again, to break it down if necessary, but then he hesitated, pausing with his fist only inches from the wood. "_Suppose I'm wrong_," he thought, second guessing his own senses, as he slowly lowered his hand and curled his fingers tightly around the edge of the pizza box. The agent dropped his gaze; staring blankly at the box he was holding, but not really seeing it. He had made the wrong decision before; the one that had created the rift in the first place could attest to that fact, so what did he do now?

"_What if I'm misreading the situation?"_ Don thought miserably, casting a despairing look at the door. "_What if Charlie is perfectly fine_ _and really meant everything he said_?" He closed his eyes and as if he was hearing a recording his brother's harsh words echoed through his mind. _"We're through Don. I don't have a brother anymore…. nor do I want one. I'm tired of trying….now go away!"_

Charlie's cutting words had stung, hurting him more than he ever thought possible. Disheartened, he moved slowly to the side of the door and sagged against the wall as a feeling of rejection and loss washed over him. Was it really too late to mend things between them? Maybe his Dad was right and he had gone too far this time but Don truly hadn't meant to hurt his brother and he was sure that if he could just get Charlie to listen to him he would understand.

But maybe this wasn't the time to try; sighing heavily he pushed away from the wall and turned away. On leaden legs he started back down the hallway toward the elevator. Maybe he could give the pizza to Grady; he'd lost his appetite.

**000000000000000**

With a flood of relief Charlie watched Don's shadowed form disappear from view and in the space of heartbeats he found himself alone again with Schiller. He had no idea if his brother had believed him or not but if it kept him away from Ludwig then the lies had been worth it. Charlie didn't think he could live with himself if something happened to Don because of him. Of course, he thought ruefully, that might be a moot point anyway; if he couldn't get through to Schiller before morning, he wouldn't be alive to worry about it. His sense of relief suddenly changed to one of alarm as the menacing figure standing next to him became more and more agitated.

"How dare that man interrupt us!" Ludwig exclaimed indignantly. "No one is allowed to interrupt our session!" The enraged man bent over suddenly and gripped Charlie's shirt pulling him forward until their faces were only inches apart. "I will not condone any outside interference! Do you understand?" he roared, giving the young man a vicious shake.

"I….I….under…stand." Wide eyed, too shocked even to think all Charlie could do was agree with the madman and hope that he would calm down.

"Disobedience will…not ... go …unpunished." Schiller growled menacingly, gazing deeply into the fearful, dark brown eyes of the mathematician.

"Ri…right." Charlie stammered out, swallowing hard. He ducked his head and glanced aside; hoping against hope that it would be enough to appease the man.

Ludwig stared at him suspiciously for a moment and then straightened up; his lips spreading in a superior smile. "You always were a quick study Eppes."

**000000000000000000**

Don's mood had darkened by the time he got to the elevator but something else was tugging at his memory besides his brother's harsh words. That odd feeling he had experienced before, his gut feeling, the one warning him that something was wrong was coming back to haunt him. Don took a deep breath to steady his emotions; to push away the bitterness and the anger that was slowly replacing his heartache. He had to forget Charlie's angry outburst and remember the tone of his voice. Don's head snapped up suddenly; that was it… there had been a desperate…almost fearful tinge to it; that's what had set him on edge in the first place.

The elevator door opened but he didn't get on board instead he retraced his steps until he was once again standing in front of Charlie's door. Even if he was wrong, he decided, he still deserved a chance to explain his actions then if Charlie wanted to push him away, he would respect his decision.

He put his ear to the door but the only sounds he could hear were emanating from the TV set.

Don stubbornly set his jaw; raising his fist he pounded rapidly on the door.

"Let me in Charlie!"

**000000000000000**

Charlie had just started to breathe a little easier when there came a rapid, insistent knocking at the door. He jerked erect as Don's voice bellowed from the hallway and then glanced fearfully at his former professor.

Schiller stood stock still, his dark eyes locked on the shadow silhouetted on the glass. He clenched his jaw, seething with anger as he devised a plan to deal with Eppes's meddling brother. Finally, he turned his cold gaze on the young mathematician.

"That infuriating man has returned!" he muttered heatedly. "I will not let him ruin my plans!" Suddenly Ludwig tilted his head to the side as if he were listening to someone and then his lips spread in a cruel smile. "Very well Professor," he sneered, "if your brother wants to come in so badly I suppose that we should let him."

Schiller abruptly bent down and grabbed the mathematician by the shirt again. "You will tell him to give you a minute and then you will open the door." He ordered through clenched teeth.

"No!" Charlie uttered defiantly, more frightened for Don than himself. "You'll shoot him if I do."

The deranged man's fist tightened on his shirt. "I will shoot him through the door if I have to. Bring him in and I won't hurt him as long as he does as he's told." He pointed his gun at the door while he waited for Charlie to respond.

"No, I won't do it!" Charlie cried out, eyes flashing angrily. "He has a better chance out there than in here. I won't let you hurt him!"

The pounding grew louder, more insistent; it was clear to both of them that the agent's patience was nearly at an end.

Charlie glanced frantically at Schiller and then at his brother's shadow; he had to warn Don! He opened his mouth to call out a warning just as Schiller slammed the butt of the revolver against his forehead. Charlie gasped as once again a blinding pain consumed him; dazed, his head dropped forward.

Schiller hastened over to the door and released the lock; scurrying back to the young Professor's side he grabbed a handful of curls with one hand. Ludwig pulled the mathematician's head back until it rested against the chair and then held the gun against his temple while he waited for the FBI agent to enter the room.

Outside in the hallway Don was contemplating kicking the door down when he suddenly heard the lock released but instead of relief his uneasiness grew when the door remained closed. Was Charlie so angry with him that he just unlocked the door and walked away without even bothering to open it or was something else going on inside his office? He hesitated; it felt _wrong_ to him….almost like it was a trap of some kind….but he had no proof that it was anything other than a family disagreement. Don's instincts had never let him down and yet he had no tangible evidence that would warrant calling for back up. He peered through the beveled glass and tried to view his brother but could only see the back of the couch and one of the lamps. Finally he decided that he had no other choice but to go in. Holding the pizza box and drinks in one hand he awkwardly turned the knob.

"Hey Chuck, what gives?" Don called out, complaining as he gripped the box with both hands and pushed the door open with his foot. "I brought us some dinner, the least you could do is hold the door op…." The agent's words died in his throat as his gaze settled on the gun pointed at Charlie's head.

"Keep your hands on the box where I can see them!"Ludwig ordered, glaring at the agent.

Don froze in position but his mind was quickly running through different rescue scenarios, unfortunately they all went out the window as long as the stranger held the barrel of that revolver against his brother's head. His gaze drifted over Charlie; his eyes were closed and blood was dripping down the side of his face from a cut on his forehead.

Alarmed, Don's eyes jerked upward to meet the gunman's gaze. "What did you do to him?"

"He'll wake up shortly unless you force me to shoot him." Ludwig replied coolly, his eyes sharp on the agent's face.

Don swallowed hard and studied the stranger at his brother's side; it was the man he had seen earlier that day and that same arrogant s.o.b. now had a gun against Charlie's head. He silently berated himself for not investigating the man further but it was too late for that now. Don let out a slow, shaky breath in an effort to remain calm; the way things stood at the moment, negotiations with the gunman was his only option.

"Just take it easy mister." Don intoned softly. Even through the clear plastic gloves he could see the white knuckled grip that the man had on the revolver. "I don't want that gun to go off accidentally."

The stranger glared angrily at him but didn't offer a response so he tried again.

"Just tell me what you want and I'll get it for you." Don said, trying to put the man at ease. "There's no reason for anyone to get hurt."

"The only thing that I want you to do is kick that door closed."

"Okay. Sure." The agent came all the way into the room and easily closed the door with his foot. He pivoted back around to face the gunman and asked. "Now what?" With his hands wrapped around the pizza box Don didn't have a chance to try anything else.

"Put the food on that table."Schiller ordered, motioning with his chin. "Slowly." He added as Don started to move toward the table.

The agent stepped across the room and placed the pizza and sodas on the table. After setting them down he raised his arms so the gunman could clearly see his hands.

"Now what?" He asked, making an effort to keep his voice calm.

"Take off your jacket and drop it on the floor. Careful now, try anything and I will pull this trigger."

Don noticed the man's gun hand trembling slightly so he hastily shrugged out of his coat and let it fall to the floor. "Okay." He said raising his hands once again. "Don't get nervous, I'm doing what you asked." With his jacket off, Don's gun and phone were in plain view.

"Put the gun and the phone on the table. Don't try anything or he'll be dead before you can get it out of the holster."

"I'm doing it…. just stay calm." Don said, as he carefully unsnapped the holster from his belt and laid his gun on the table followed almost immediately by his phone. He straightened up and raised his hands in the air.

Schiller motioned to a chair near the sofa. "Bring that over here and put it next to your brothers chair. "

Don picked up the chair and placed it next to Charlie; noting with relief the rise and fall of his chest.

"Sit down." Ludwig ordered, watching the agent warily.

After the agent was in the chair, Schiller shifted the gun to the side of Don's head and removed the handcuffs that were attached to the back of his belt. "Cuff one of your wrists." He ordered tossing the cuffs in the agents lap.

Don placed a cuff around his left wrist and at the gunman's further instruction he put both hands around the back of his chair.

Ludwig quickly cuffed the agent's hands together and moved behind Charlie's chair; grabbing the chair he wrenched it around so that it was facing the desk as well.

The movement seemed to bring Charlie out of his daze and he raised his head, blinking his eyes owlishly in an effort to see clearly. His head swiveled around to face his brother; brown eyes filled with regret. "Don, I'm so sorry," he whispered sadly.

"Very touching Eppes." Schiller sneered and then reached down and released Charlie's hands. "Take off your tie and bind his feet with it." He ordered, moving the barrel of the gun to the back of the agent's head. "Now!"

"Okay, okay." Charlie replied fearfully. He felt a twinge of pain in his back and legs as he moved to do the gunman's bidding. "Sorry, Don." he said again as he knelt down to secure his brother's feet.

"It's okay Charlie." Don said encouragingly. "Just do what he says."

"Now, get back in the chair." The older man ordered, motioning with the gun.

Charlie settled back in the chair but used the end of his shirt to wipe the blood out of his eyes before Ludwig tied his hands again.

Satisfied that his prisoners weren't going anywhere, Ludwig moved over to lock the door then sniffed the air, as if he smelled the pizza for the first time. Suddenly, he changed his direction and wandered over to the table; lifting the lid of the box to examine its contents. Schiller glanced up and met two pair of dark eyes that had been carefully tracking his movements.

"This smells absolutely delicious and it would be a shame to waste it." He commented, looking hopefully at the agent. "Do you mind?"

Taken aback by the man's sudden change in demeanor Don just gave him a quizzical look and a nod; watching in fascination as he bit into a slice of pizza and pulled one of the sodas from the paper bag.

"Hmm, this is good." Ludwig mumbled around a mouth full of pizza as he gave Don a grateful nod. "Thanks, I didn't realize how hungry I was."

"Don't mention it." Don replied gruffly then glanced sideways at his brother while the gunman was occupied. "You okay?" he asked lowering his voice to almost a whisper.

"Yeah." Charlie shrugged, letting his eyes drift toward the table and Schiller."We just had a slight difference of opinion when he first arrived and unfortunately he won."

Don's brows were drawn together with concern as he looked Charlie over; clearly his little brother had put up a fight. The cut on his forehead had stopped bleeding but blood was smeared on the right side of his face where he had wiped it with his shirt and there was a dark bruise on his cheek. He had a cut lip and there was dried blood on the left side of his face that trailed all the way down to his neck.

Schiller looked up at that moment and caught his eye. Grinning broadly he reached for another slice of pizza. "It's alright if you talk, I don't mind. After I finish eating I still have some preparations to make before our sessions can begin."

Charlie didn't say anything but turned his head and shared his brother's confused look.

"Sessions?" Don asked suspiciously. "What does he mean? What kind of sessions?"

Charlie shook his head in bewilderment. "I haven't a clue."

"Who is this guy?" Don asked impatiently. "Charlie do you know him?"

The young professor glanced sideways at the man before facing his brother again. "Don that man is Dr. Ludwig Schiller. He was one of my math professor's when I attended Princeton and at the time he was a very notable mathematician."

"He hasn't told you what he wants?" Don asked incredulously. "The man just walks in here, beats on you, ties you up, and hasn't said a word to you about why he doing this?"

Charlie's emotions were on overload; Tom's death and the arrival of his killer had sent his senses reeling. His head was throbbing from Ludwig's blow and his body was still aching from Schiller's earlier assault. But even knowing that he was the man's next victim wasn't scaring him half as much as the fact that he had inadvertently put his brother in danger. Don's sarcastic tone sent him reeling over the edge and he lashed out with his own questions.

"Why are you here Don? You shut me out for three weeks and now, tonight, of all nights, you decide to come over for a visit!" His eyes darted back to Schiller. "Oh, and the answer to your question is still no, he hasn't told me anything."

"Hey!" Don retorted defensively. "In all fairness, it was only for two weeks. You were the one avoiding me this week, remember?"

"I've haven't been avoiding you, I've just been busy and besides I thought that was the way that you wanted it." Startled, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned quickly as the Professor reached for another slice of pizza; the argument that he was going to make in his defense was suddenly forgotten as the gun came back into view. With sorrowful eyes he turned back to face his brother. "Look, I'm sorry. I should have made the time to call you…and I'm sorry that you've been pulled into this mess."

"This isn't your fault Charlie and I don't blame you for being angry. I shouldn't have treated you the way I did and that was actually the reason I came here tonight…to explain to you why I behaved that way." He paused and glanced at Schiller as the man slurped down the last gulp of one of the sodas then turned back to his brother when he was sure the man wasn't finished eating. "When we get out of here I'll explain it to you."

"If we get out of here" Charlie said morosely. "Maybe you should think twice before coming to my office anymore. You could end up getting shot."

Don scoffed. "Do the math bro. This is one of your anomalies; my office is the one with the greater odds of our getting shot." He became the serious agent once again and tried to find a way out of their situation. "What time did he get here?"

Charlie glanced at the clock on the wall, nine-thirty. "About an hour ago." He took a deep breath and spoke softly. "Listen Don, he hasn't said anything yet but I know that he is the serial killer that you've been looking for."

Don's eyebrows shot up; those were the last words that he expected his brother to utter. "Huh?" He shook his head in confusiot. "I…I don't understand. " Don whispered, leaning forward to get a better view of Schiller.

"I still don't know what his motive is but I did discover how he is choosing his victims and the order that he is killing them in."

Don studied him thoughtfully and then glanced sideways to check on Schiller. "If he is the killer and he's been murdering 1992 graduates from Princeton …..then why is he here…in your office?"

Charlie looked down before meeting his brother's eyes. "Don, he's not killing them because they graduated in 1992, he's killing former students that shared a particular freshman class."

"Let me guess," Don deadpanned, "your freshman class?"

Charlie nodded and looked down at his feet. He glanced at Schiller before using his shoes to scoot the photograph closer to his brother; some sand still remained on it but not enough to obscure the photo.

"Look at the first row."He said softly. "Yang, Mendoza, Regan, Crandall, Brogan, Leavens and," his voice choked up suddenly, "….and…Thomas Hill."

Don looked down at the photograph and studied the first row, his eyes following the pictures as Charlie called them out.

With his brows drawn together in sorrow Charlie raised his head and whispered brokenly. "All are dead now….except one."

Don's head jerked up in alarm. "Tom? He killed Tom….oh Buddy… I'm so sorry."

Charlie sniffed and glanced away to pull himself together but when he looked back a single tear had fallen on his cheek. "I tried to warn him but I was too late."

Don's eyes drifted back to the photograph, focusing on Tom's picture and then broke out in a sweat at the sight of the student standing next to him.

"Charlie!" he whispered anxiously, glancing up to catch his brother's eye.

"Now you know why he is in my office." His brother responded in a hollow voice.

"What did he say?" Don asked urgently.

"Only that we had to talk and then you started knocking at the door….and apparently he got hungry." Charlie answered with another look at the professor.

"Tell me what he was like at Princeton."

"He was very strict and serious about teaching." Charlie tilted his head as he studied the man at the table. "Nothing like this" He dropped his eyes and when he looked back up Don could see the sadness reflected in them. Despite the fact that Schiller had beaten him, Charlie still felt sorry for the man. "Something happened to him Don, something bad."

"Like what?"

Charlie shook his head, "I don't know but whatever it was….it did something to his mind." His head swiveled around to meet his brother's gaze as he lowered his voice even further. "Don he's much more dangerous than you realize. We're dealing with two personalities, not one. The one we are seeing right now is a teacher and quite affable….the other… is a killer."

"A dual personality huh?" Don asked, licking his lips nervously. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," Charlie said; his eyes darting from side to side nervously. "Think Jekyll and Hyde."

"Oh…man!" Don groaned under his breath.

"Don…listen….maybe there is a way that you can get out of this." Charlie said apprehensively, afraid to meet his brother's eye. He knew that his idea wouldn't go over very well but he had to try anyway.

"What are you talking about Charlie?" Don asked his brow furrowed in confusion.

Charlie turned toward him with pleading eyes. "His dominant persona has an obsessive agenda and he will not be swayed from that path. That's why I couldn't predict where he would strike next because he wasn't following any logical pattern. In his mind he had to follow the order that we were pictured in the photograph, never letting himself get distracted or diverted from that task no matter how far he had to go to complete it."

Don squinted at him, clearly confused. "What?"

"I'm saying that he is so focused on completing his task that if you don't get in his way then when he has …. has…finished….he…he…might let you go."

"I think that hit on the head scrambled those "genius" brains of yours if you think I'm just going to sit idly by and let him kill you!" Don retorted heatedly, his voice rising louder than he intended. He glanced quickly at Schiller but the man was too busy eating to notice. "Besides Charlie," he said, lowering his voice again, "considering what he has planned for you, I can't see him just letting me go."

"The evil persona wouldn't let you go but that one," Charlie nodded toward Ludwig, "would. I believe that when the task is finished the evil persona disappears and the other one takes over and he won't hurt you."

"Forget it Charlie!" Don whispered angrily. "I'm not going to just sit here and try to pretend that nothing is going on!"

"Don….please…I." Charlie's voice choked and he glanced away. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath before turning back to face his brother. "Don he came for me, not for you. It's not right that you are at risk too …please." He implored with unshed tears glistening inn his eyes. "

"Look Buddy" Don's voice softened, "I appreciate that you care but I care about you too and I just can't sit by and let someone hurt you."

Charlie closed his eyes and bowed his head in defeat; it had been a long shot at best but he had hoped to get his brother to agree to keep a low profile.

"Charlie…Charlie." Don called softly; waiting for his brother to look up. "Don't give up…I'll think of something…I promise."

As if on cue a loud sigh emanated from the table and the brother's turned to face Professor Schiller. He stood up and stretched contentedly, then picked up the gun and crossed the floor to stand in front of his captives. "That was delicious Agent Eppes and quite unexpected, but nevertheless very welcome."

He was a polite killer, Don would give him that, but that's all he was going to give him. "Do you realize how much trouble you are in? Assaulting Professor Eppes and holding him at gunpoint. Not to mention restraining a Federal Agent. That alone could put you behind bars for a long time." Don tried to keep his voice steady, but inside his emotions was in a state of chaos. He had to figure some way to get Charlie out of this. "You need to let us go before you get yourself in deeper."

"I believe that murder would take precedent, don't you Agent Eppes?"He looked down his nose at Don. "We both know that I have gone far beyond that, don't we?"

"Why are you doing this?" Charlie asked desperately. "How could you kill them like that?"

Ludwig raised his chin and studied his former student as if he was weighing and measuring his worth. Casually he leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms. "They are not your concern. It is your own welfare that you should be worried about this night Dr. Eppes."

"My life is none of your business!" Charlie cried out furiously, pushing his fear aside momentarily. "Why…why are you so concerned about my affairs?"

"I am a teacher; it is my job to see that my students do not stray from their appointed paths." He shrugged uncomfortably and was beginning to become agitated, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"I am not your student anymore and neither were the people that you killed!" Charlie was shaking with rage. "You're nothing more than a murderer!"

"Do not push me Professor!" Schiller roared suddenly as the dominant personality took control. He rushed forward and drove his fist into the mathematician's stomach with enough force to leave him breathless.

Charlie flinched, realizing too late that he had pushed the man over the edge. The force of the blow took his breath away; closing his eyes against the pain, he gasped for breath as he desperately fought to get air back into his lungs. The roaring was so loud in his ears that he was barely aware of Ludwig turning to confront his brother's angry cries.

"Stop it!" Don yelled. "Leave him alone!"

Schiller snarled and backhanded the agent, snapping his head to the side. He stormed around the two men with his fists clenched, ranting and raving at them until he calmed down then he stepped between the chairs and stood in front of the desk; facing them calmly once again.

Charlie raised his head, warily watching the man until he was finally able to catch his breath again. He shared a quick glance with his brother noting with dismay the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. In that brief instant a tacit look of understanding passed between them since Don had experienced firsthand the violent shift of Schiller's personalities. They both looked up as the older man started speaking again but his gaze was centered on Charlie.

Ludwig's hazel eyes appeared normal; the teacher was back. Although his voice and mannerisms gave the brothers the impression they were listening to a lecture his subject matter made them both shudder.

"There are two possible results for tonight's session Dr. Eppes which I will reveal to you shortly." Schiller intoned haughtily. "But you should know that if the first prospect comes to pass you will die by the dawn's early light."

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

By the Dawn's Early Light

By 1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for your reviews and alerts.

Spoiler: The Pilot

Chapter 19:

"_**Lucy, I'm home."**_

"_**Ethel put this in your pocket. I don't want Ricky to see it yet." **_

The laugh track and the comical music from the old "I Love Lucy" TV series resonating loudly from the front of the room seemed to mock the seriousness of their situation. The fact that a man had just proclaimed that he was going to die should surely have warranted a more dramatic musical score along with a multitude of angry voices protesting the possible event…and yet, the laughter and lively music played on.

Charlie didn't feel like laughing and from the expression on Don's face he was feeling the same way. The one consolation that he had was that Ludwig hadn't threatened his brother; Don just might have a chance after all. His eyes drifted downward to the photograph beneath his shoes and his heart began to race; he was going to join them if he couldn't figure out how to reach the sane part of Schiller's mind. Of course, he thought ruefully, he was going on the assumption that there was some sanity left for him to find.

Don trembled with fear for his brother's safety and anger at the insane man standing in front of him. The comedic voices and the light hearted music coming from the TV set was grating on his nerves and he had precious few left to deal with the annoying sounds. Don desperately needed a plan to get his brother out of there before daylight but he wasn't coming up with any viable strategy. He gritted his teeth and jerked at the cuffs locked around his wrists in frustration; he needed the damn key….and it was in his coat pocket lying on the floor on the other side of the room. He glanced sideways at his brother; Charlie was looking at the photograph on the floor and he could tell from his brother's expression what he was thinking. It fueled Don's desperation even further and he doubled his efforts to get his hands free. "_Don't worry buddy" he thought frantically, "I'm not going to let you end up like them."_

Schiller's sudden declaration was unexpected; both brother's had seen the results of the autopsies and were well aware that he killed his victims precisely at dawn but hearing him calmly state his intentions had caught them off-guard; the older man's statement had struck them both like a physical blow. They observed the man in silence; having both experienced his volatile reactions to angry outbursts they were doing their best to keep their emotions in check.

Schiller cocked his head to the side and studied them with a puzzled expression; eyes flitting from one brother to the other. "I've grown accustomed to loud protests at this announcement and yet the two of you sit in silence." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back against Charlie's desk. "I find this behavior very curious…very curious indeed."

"Panic will serve no purpose." Charlie managed to say quietly even though his heart was hammering in his chest. He cleared his throat and raised his chin defiantly determined to keep the fear out of his voice. "Why do you want to kill me?"

"You misunderstand my pronouncement. I did not say that I want to kill you; my only desire is to enlighten you. Death will only occur as a last resort."

"Enlightenment?" Don spat out incredulously, and then lowered his voice at the man's raised eyebrows. The agent trembled from his efforts to control his anger but he was unable to keep the contempt out of his voice. "I've seen the results of your "enlightenment" and I fail to see how that word could in any conceivable way, apply to what you have done to those poor people."

"I do not have to justify my actions to you sir." Schiller arrogantly replied, eyeing the agent coldly before turning his gaze back to the younger man as he held up another finger. "If the second scenario comes to pass then you will live."

Ludwig straightened up and calmly walked toward the sofa. He bent over and picked up a large duffel bag which he carried around to the back of the desk and placed beside of the chair then pulled out Charlie's leather bound desk chair and slid easily into the seat. The older professor stared at the two men as if they were just two of his students, appearing to overlook the fact that they were bound to the chairs. He caught Charlie's eye and smiled fondly at him; leaning forward he clasped his hands together on top of the desk.

"I always liked you, you know," he said earnestly. " In all of my years of teaching, both before and after you were at Princeton, no one ever came close to having your remarkable abilities."

"I'd hate to see what you would do to someone you didn't like." Don growled sarcastically.

"That is one of the reasons that I am here." Schiller kept his eyes on Charlie, refusing to acknowledge Don's comment. "It's because I 'm so fond of you that I have decided to save you from a life of humiliation and disappointment."

Charlie's face darkened; incensed by the man's presumptuous manner. "Is that what you told Tom before you killed him?" He asked bitterly, his voice trembling with rage.

"You will have the same chance that he had." Ludwig replied haughtily. "If I determine that you have been slacking off and not fulfilling your potential then, yes, you will die. I will kill you; thereby saving you from following in my footsteps and becoming a _failure_."For a brief moment disappointment and shame were reflected in his hazel eyes but then they hardened and the stern professor was back.

Charlie tilted his head to the side and studied his old professor before deciding on a new tactic. He was sure that he had seen remorse in the man's eyes, it was a brief moment but perhaps it was enough to get through to him. "_Besides, he thought darkly, "what have I got to lose?"_

"Why do you believe that you are failure Professor Schiller?" He asked tentatively, uncertain of how his question would be received.

Ludwig's voice was soft at first, wavering between a whisper and a low rasp: "Princeton University was my home, the only one that I have ever known, but the trustees forced me to take my retirement because of one mistake."

"What was that mistake?" Don asked, seeing Charlie's ploy; get the man to talk about himself and maybe they could reach him.

"A judgment error they said." His lips spread into a sneer and his voice hardened. "But I wasn't wrong. The lout needed discipline and I administered it."

Charlie's eyebrows disappeared beneath his curls. "You assaulted a student?"

"It was not assault!" Ludwig angrily slapped the palms of his hands on the desk; his eyes narrowing dangerously. "It was discipline but they saw otherwise. They made me take tests and declared me mentally unstable, forced me to take pills and retire."

"When was the last time that you took your medication?" Don asked sharing an uneasy glance with his brother.

Schiller's reaction surprised them both and a look of rapture crossed his features before he spoke to them again. "I have not taken any of these disgusting things," he said, pulling an orange, plastic bottle from his pocket filled with white capsules, "since the divine one set me on my path of redemption."

Charlie's mouth dropped open; the man was truly certifiable. "Redemption? Wait...let me get this straight…..you're saying that God has been telling you what to do?"

"Yes, he has shown me the path to follow. I can only save myself by preventing others from suffering my fate."

"I don't understand?" Don said; his brow furrowed in confusion. "How does beating and killing your former students help you find redemption?"

"If I had stayed with the Scientific Institute instead of becoming a Professor at Princeton then I might have reached my full potential because I would not have had all of the distractions that I encountered at the University. My students have also let distractions lead them astray so I try to teach them their true paths but if it is too late for them to change then I make certain that they will never suffer the shame and humiliation in the eyes of their peers that I have seen in mine."

Don shared a brief look of astonishment with his brother before facing Schiller. "That is your motive for killing your former students? Because they didn't listen to you and wanted to live their own lives and not how you thought they should live? On those grounds you perceived that they would fail and had to die before they became failures?"

Schiller's eyes narrowed defensively at Don's incredulous tone. "They will always be looked upon with respect….I made sure of that."

"You arrogant old fool!" The agent roared, disregarding any attempt at controlling his anger. "You had no right to make that judgment on them! The decisions those people made in their lifetimes belonged to them and no one else!"

Charlie glanced worriedly at his brother as he fought to keep his own temper under control; he didn't want Schiller to strike out against Don again.

"You are a teacher and a good one," he said, interrupting them with hopes of keeping the man's violent persona at bay, "but it is not your place to determine someone else's fate no matter how good your intentions might be." Charlie caught his breath at the sudden blankness in the man's eyes and tried to mentally prepare himself for the other personality that he was sure would be coming but was surprised by Ludwig's next words.

Schiller tilted his head as if in thought and then looked Charlie squarely in the eye. "Have you ever imagined what people will say about you? Why….your peers will bow their heads in sorrow and say things like "We'll never know what he could have accomplished" or "Can you imagine the amazing mathematical applications that he might have discovered if only he had lived?"

Suddenly, he jumped up and down in his chair grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I know…I know…. this is the best one of them all." He took a deep breath and very dramatically announced. "It's a shame that the poor boy didn't live long enough to full fill his "grand destiny."

Charlie paled considerably, his mouth opening and closing in an attempt to reply. He ducked his head and stared at nothing as a distant memory resurfaced; a memory of a conversation that he once had with his mentor Larry Fleinhardt. Larry had been concerned over the amount of time that Charlie was spending on one of Don's cases and had brought up the fate of another young mathematician who had become distracted from his work. His friend's words, so similar to Schiller's, sent a chill up his spine. He could he hear them clearly in his mind, just as if it had happened an hour ago_: "Everet Skalwa, a brilliant young mathematician not unlike yourself, tackling the hardest problems in his day but he got distracted, he got caught up in politics', romance and at the age of twenty he was killed in a duel and who even knows what he might have accomplished."_

"_What he might have accomplished? No!" Charlie thought frantically, his heart pounding wildly."I'm not dead yet!" _He took a shaky breath and looked up as his brother began to speak.

"My brother is still young; he has a lot of time to make discoveries." Don said determined to reach the sane part of the man's mind. He had to try but as he uttered the last word he realized that it was probably a waste of time; after all, how could you reason with someone who believes that God is telling him to beat and kill people in order to gain his own redemption.

"That remains to be seen." Ludwig replied conversationally with a glance at the clock. "Whether he lives to grow any older or not will depend upon the results of my analysis and since we only have seven hours until dawn perhaps it would be prudent for us to begin. "

**00000000000000000000**

Alan's chin rested on his chest; his glasses sliding down his nose until they were dangerously close to falling off. He snorted suddenly and looked bleary-eyed over the rims of his glasses when he heard a tap at the door.

"Charlie?"

"It's just me Alan." Larry called out as he opened the door and wearily plopped down on the sofa. "Charlie's not home yet?"

"No." Alan answered as he settled back in his chair; removing his glasses he rubbed his eyes before putting them back on and glancing at his watch. "He called earlier and said that he was going to be working late but I thought he would be home by now. It's ten o'clock; he should be home and getting ready for bed… just like the rest of us."

"Well, Charles isn't like the average person so maybe he decided to stay later and get some work done while Amita is in San Diego."

"Maybe." Alan huffed. "But he could have called again to let me know how late he was going to stay there."

Larry leaned back and crossed his arms. "Now Alan, the last time I checked Charles was a grown man. Does he always tell you what his plans are?"

"No, but that's beside the point." Alan returned with a glare. "He is still my son, no matter how old he is."

"Okay…fine…" Larry sputtered defensively, raising both hands in the air in defeat. "I concede. I'm just too tired to get into a debate with you about Charlie's behavior." With an exaggerated sigh he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"Speaking of rest, you look like you could use some too." Alan observed, noting the dark circles under his friends eyes.

"I could say the same thing about you."

Alan shrugged indifferently. "I actually did go to bed earlier but I couldn't sleep so I gave up and came out here."

"Anything bothering you?" Larry asked through heavy lidded eyes. "Something on your mind that would keep you awake?"

"I don't know," Alan replied with a shake of his head, "I just have this odd feeling that something isn't right and it's making me a little uneasy." He looked up and smiled ruefully. "Just an old man's worries I suppose." The truth was that after his talk with Don he wanted to spend a little time with Charlie too and had decided to wait up for him.

"If you say so my friend." Larry agreed, yawning widely and settling further into the soft cushions of the couch.

"It looks like I'm not the only one that should be going to bed." Alan commented, setting aside his Sudoku puzzle and pencil. "Are you still working on Don's case?"

"Yes. We've discovered a few commonalties among the victims that are associated with Princeton University but they're so vague that we can't make any headway on the case. I'm hoping that Charles is working on it tonight and will find something that will point us in the right direction."

Alan frowned, leaning forward. "Victims? I thought there was just one murder?"

Larry shook his head sadly. "Charles found a connection to four other murders that are exactly like the one committed here in L.A. Don thinks there might be a serial killer on the loose and he's struck in five different states so far. But the problem is that we can't seem to figure out how the killer is choosing his victims."

A serial killer huh?"

The tired professor leaned forward and with his elbows resting on his knees he began to massage his temples. "The only connection that we have found so far is that all of the victims graduated from Princeton."

"Princeton graduates!" Alan exclaimed, jerking erect. "Donnie was here earlier but he didn't say anything about that. Is Charlie in danger?"

"No, no, no, Charlie is safe enough." Larry said hastily, seeking to ease his friends mind. "Don't tell Don that I've told you any of this but all of the victims were in the same graduating class." He held up his hand to forestall Alan's question. "They all graduated the year after Charles, so you don't have anything to worry about."

"Princeton always has a good-sized graduating class," Alan pointed out unnecessarily, "how can the FBI protect them all?"

"Therein lays our conundrum. We can't determine who the next victims might be until we discover the commonality between our five victims. Once we can determine that then we may be able to identify our killer and discover what motivates him."

"Right." Alan said thoughtfully, rising from his chair. "Don is sure that Charlie isn't in any danger?"

"Relax Alan, there's no need to worry." Larry replied as he stood up and arched his back to stretch his tired muscles.

"In that case then I think I'll call it a night." Alan said, shuffling toward his bedroom. "See you in the morning Larry."

"Hey Alan?"

The elder man paused with his hand on the bedroom door and waited for his friend to finish his question.

"Do you know where Charles keeps his Princeton yearbooks?"

Alan turned completely around to face him. "I thought you said that Charlie wasn't in any danger?"

"Oh, he isn't." Larry was quick to assure him. "I'm just feeling a little nostalgic with all of this talk about Princeton and my books are packed away in storage."

"Oh." Alan mumbled and then scratched his chin as he tried to remember where his son had put his yearbooks. "Charlie's stuff from college is all packed in boxes in the solarium; they're stacked on the floor in the corner near the chalkboard."

"Thanks, I think I'll have a look before I retire for the evening."

"Good night Larry," Alan said wearily, pushing open his bedroom door, "don't forget to lock the door."

"Don't worry, I'll lock up. See you in the morning."

**0000000000000000000**

"Analysis!" Charlie exclaimed indignantly, his dark eyes turning to anger; the audacity of the man infuriated him. The old man really believed that he was qualified to judge _his_ work when Charlie had surpassed him at the young age of thirteen and swept through his class in only half a semester. He was all set to put the man in his place when his brother's insistent voice penetrated his angry thoughts.

"Charlie?" Don whispered urgently. He could tell by the mucscles twitching in his brother's jaw that he was about to lose his temper and that was something that neither one of them could afford to do. "Charlie!"

Fuming, the young mathematician's head whipped around to meet his brother's eyes: eyes that implored him to remain calm and not say anything that would insight the man to further violence. As Charlie stared at his brother, reason began to replace his anger and with as much civility as he could muster, he turned to face Schiller. Seething with rage Charlie gritted his teeth, looked the man straight in the eye and in a clipped voice uttered one word. _"Elaborate_."

With a nod of his head, Ludwig pushed the chair back; picking up the duffel bag he set it on the top of Charlie's desk and unzipped it. "Don't worry Professor, I have done my research and the analysis will be based on all current data. I can assure you that it will be fair and accurate."

"Like Tom's…was his fair and accurate too?" Charlie spat out, his blood beginning to boil again as he watched the man pull magazine after magazine out of the bag. He recognized each one of them as Ludwig casually stacked them neatly on his desk; Charlie had published articles in all of them. A pile of papers followed and were placed next to the magazines but the young professor couldn't tell what they were from his position in the chair but he was sure that he would soon find out. A copy of his book "_The Attraction Equation: Being Popular is as Easy As Pi"_ was added to the stack of papers and then he placed the bag back on the floor.

Don and Charlie watched in silence as Ludwig walked over to one of two whiteboards that Charlie had in his office. He picked up an eraser and without even considering whether Charlie's work was important or not began to erase everything that was a yellow marker, he then drew a column on the left side of the board and labeled it "Achievements". He then moved to the second board, erased the equations that were there and drew an identical column but labeling this one "Failures."

Finally he moved to the chalkboard that was attached to the wall and drew a graph, labeling each line with a year, beginning with Charlie's first year at Princeton and ending with the current year of 2010. He turned then and walked back to the desk; directing his words at the young professor.

"I will assign numerical values to your various pieces of work; one through ten with ten being the highest score. We will review them as the night passes and I will record them in their appropriate columns." He said, turning and pointing at the board detailing the graph.

"By the time we are finished tonight this graph will reflect your failures and achievements Professor. Your fate will be determined by the column with the highest percentages. Achievements, you live. Failures, you die."

Schiller bent over and pulled one final object from the duffle bag and held it up for them to see.

Charles's eyes widened and he shivered, remembering the pain from the blows that he had received earlier. "That's what you hit me with?" He cried out, distressed and shaken over the revelation. Charlie stared at the repulsive object and felt nauseated; it wasn't necessary for Schiller to answer his question…he knew it to be true.

Don frowned, his eyes darting between his brother and the object; that explained why Charlie had been moving so stiffly and it also explained the unidentified marks on all of the victims. He felt bile creeping into his throat at the thought of Schiller using the vile thing on his brother.

Ludwig's hands seemed to caress it then he ran his fingers along its length before placing it on the desk top. Schiller raised his head and met the horrified gaze of two pairs of shocked dark brown eyes and then his lips curled in an imperious smile; straightening his shoulders he stood tall, intoxicated with the power that the object gave him.

"I do not usually repeat myself but since your brother was not here at the time I will make an exception in this case." He said to Charlie in a condescending tone before turning toward the agent."As I informed Professor Eppes, disobedience will not go unpunished." Schiller's smile broadened but didn't touch his eyes; the other personality had taken control.

TBC

_A/N:_

_I will be going out of town on the 24__th__ of December to celebrate Christmas with my family. Chapter 20 will be posted after the holidays when I can resume my normal weekend posting._

_**Merry Christmas **__**to everyone that celebrates the holiday **_

_**And to everyone:**_

"_**I wish you a Happy, Healthy and Prosperous New Year"**_


	20. Chapter 20

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By 1__st__ Endeavor_

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for your reviews and alerts. I truly appreciate them.

Chapter 20:

Grady Benson clicked on his radio as he strolled slowly away from the well-lit building; spotlights and advanced security systems had been installed in all of the campus buildings with hopes of deterring any thoughts of theft or vandalism.

"LIGO Lab is secure." He reported to the central security office. The Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory was the largest structure on the southern most point of the 124 acre campus. He glanced to his left as he walked toward the next building; the running tracks were a mile in that direction so after he finished his walk around the campus he would get in his car and drive out to check the track as well. Even though the LAPD patrolled the streets regularly throughout the night, the running track was still a part of CalSci and therefore, a part of his security detail.

It really was a beautiful campus and he was impressed every time he made his rounds. From the Spanish Mission style architecture to the abundantly aromatic flower gardens, CalSci was one of the most picturesque universities in California.

Grady passed an occasional student here and there as they made their way back to the dorms. Most of them would be coming from the super computer labs that were kept open all night for the student's use. Many of them preferred to work during the night because it was quieter and because it was easier to gain access to the system. It wasn't only the students that he would find there; as a matter of fact it was not unusual to find a professor or two working alongside the students on their own projects. That was actually where he had first met Don Eppes brother; he and Professor Fleinhardt had been working late on a project and were running some calculations through the super computer.

Chuckling to himself he wondered who was more stubborn, Don or his younger brother. It would be interesting to see which one of them had won out; if both cars were still in the parking lot when his steps brought him back to the Math building he would have to assume that Professor Eppes was the more stubborn of the two.

"What is your current location Grady?" A voice suddenly crackled over his radio.

"Approaching the biology lab."

"Roger that."

The radio went silent as the dome of the Kerckhoff Lab of the biological sciences came into view; Grady would check in again after completing his inspection of the structure. He could see a few offices still lit inside and as he opened the main door and entered the lab all thoughts of the Eppes brothers were pushed aside as he began to check out the interior of the building.

**0000000000000000**

The brothers were speechless, dark eyes focused on the object in their captor's hands. Schiller gently ran his fingers along the smooth, rattan rod, almost as if he was caressing the arm of his lover. The light colored cane was four foot in length and about as thick as a man's thumb with a rounded ornately carved handle.

Ludwig held the handle of the cane in his right hand and grasped the end tip in his left. He stepped away from the desk and stretched his arms over his head and held it there, flexing it so that both men had a clear view; suddenly without warning, he whipped it through the air in a high arc. A high pitch whistling sound followed its progress until it hit the back of Charlie's leather bound desk chair, landing with a sharp crack and causing both brothers to jump in response. The leather split from the cutting force of the harsh impact leaving an ugly tear in the expensive chair. Exhilarated, Ludwig stared at his handy-work and in his mind the torn leather became a testament to his skill with the cane, infusing him with a prodigious sense of supremacy. He raised his head and as his gaze settled on the brothers a malicious smile spread across his face.

"Are you aware that there are different sizes and weights for canes?" Schiller enquired his eyes aglow from his intoxicated emotional state. Pleased with the apprehensive reactions of the two men he casually walked around to the front of the desk and leaned back against it; slowly twirling the cane through the air as he spoke.

"I've never….. really thought about it," Charlie answered hesitantly, eyeing the cane anxiously, "but I have a feeling that we are about to find out."

Don shifted nervously in his chair, wincing as he tried once again to get his hands free. His wrists were already raw from his efforts but he endured the pain, fiercely determined to get them free; driven by an over-whelming desire to close his right fist and knock the pompous sneer from Schiller's face.

"For instance," Ludwig continued, clearly enjoying his control over them, "the type of cane that is used is determined by the potential severity of the punishment. There are_ light _canes, usually 8 mm in diameter and 60 cm long, which are called _junior_ canes. Obviously, the name implies its usage; it is considered sufficient to punish young school children." He shrugged nonchalantly and crossed his arms but retained a menacing grip on the cane. "Then there is one known as a_ reformatory_ cane which measures about 90-120 cm long and is 12 mm thick. That one is reserved for the most incorrigible of juveniles."

The brother's watched anxiously as Ludwig stood up; their eyes meeting in alarm as the man disappeared behind them. Charlie couldn't suppress a shudder as the tip of the cane suddenly appeared in the narrow open space separating him from his brother. His eyes widened fearfully as Schiller lowered it and rested it on his left shoulder. Bile rose in his throat; Tom had been beaten with it as well as his other former classmates, and now it was only inches from his face. Charlie's mouth suddenly went dry as his old professor slowly slid the cane across his left shoulder. Barely breathing, he turned his head slightly, following its progress until all but the handle rested on his shoulder. An involuntary shudder coursed through his body; never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that a piece of wood could make him feel this much terror.

"Obviously, my former students are no longer children, so neither of these types would have been appropriate to use." Schiller said, continuing his lecture on the cane. "This one however fits my requirements perfectly; known as _The Singapore Cane _it is used in Malaysia, Singapore and Brunei for punishment of adult criminals. Not that you are a criminal of course," he added hastily," but then neither can you be classified as a juvenile."

Without any warning he suddenly raised the cane and viciously whipped it down in the empty space between Don and Charlie's chairs. Startled and threatened by the close proximity of the cane both brothers jumped as it whizzed through the small space that separated them.

"This particular cane is half an inch in diameter and 4 ft long. It can cause deep wounds and permanent scars but that depends on how many strokes a person is given and how they are applied."Ludwig informed them menacingly.

"That's…that's barbaric." Charlie said thickly, his face paling as his eyes were involuntarily drawn to the cane.

"Its use is also banned in most countries." Don growled darkly; jerking his head to the side suddenly when Ludwig slid the cane over his shoulder.

"It is an acceptable form of punishment in many countries and besides considering that my other methods haven't exactly been legal I hardly see that as a valid point." Schiller _tisked_ irritably. "Now getting back to the cane, the institution where I was raised had little qualms about using them on its students." He raised his head, staring at nothing but seeing a vision from his own past. "Even though I was only seven it didn't take me long to learn what was expected of me …or the price of failure. I learned quickly that it was considered a sign of weakness to cry out or yell while you were being disciplined so after my first caning I never uttered another sound whenever I was punished." His voice took on a dark edge as he continued to reminisce about his days at the institute. "Eventually, I came to understand the wisdom of their teachings and in the end I had earned the respect of my teachers and fellow classmates, not only with my mathematical skills but also with my ability to tolerate pain."

Despite everything Ludwig had done Charlie couldn't help but feel a little compassion for the man; no child should ever be subjected to that kind of abuse. Frowning, he tilted his head upwards and sadly studied the man's profile. "_Is that why he is behaving like this now?" He mused thoughtfully. "John Nash suffered a_ _mental breakdown but he never became violent, paranoid yes, but never violent. Ludwig on the other hand had developed a dual personality and one of them had become deadly. There had to be a connection to the abusive treatment that he had received as a child," he decided, "why else would his mental break turn so violent while Nash's had not.."_

"I'm…I'm sorry."

Schiller had remained silent, lost in his memories but at the young man's words he glanced down and met his gaze. Instead of soothing his pain, the compassion reflected in his former student's dark brown eyes only infuriated him; angrily he struck out, cuffing Charlie hard on the side of his head.

"I do not seek your pity!" He snapped in outrage and stormed around their chairs; indignantly striding toward Charlie's desk.

Charlie's head snapped to the right; his vision suddenly tinged with red. Unfortunately, Schiller's blow had caught him on the exact spot where he had hit the bookcase, re-opening the wound and sending a blinding pain to the side of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and panted against the throbbing the pain with hopes of quelling its intensity.

"You son of a bitch!" Don cried out furiously. "You didn't have to hit him!"

Still incensed Ludwig ignored the agent's outcry; pulling out the chair he plopped down angrily on the seat and snatched up one of the notebooks that he had placed on the desk. He flipped it open to the first page and began to read through his notes.

One glance in his brother's direction and Don's outrage was suddenly replaced with concern. Charlie's head was bowed and a fresh stream of blood was running from the gash on the side of his head. "Charlie? Come on Chuck," he urged desperately, "talk to me…shake it off buddy."

Dazed but still conscious the younger man began to stir and slowly raised his head just as the red fluid started to fan out over the left side of his face. Gently he brought his left shoulder up and leaned his cheek against it to wipe the blood out of his eyes then carefully straightened his head and opened them.

"Not….not so…so… loud," he pleaded in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Sorry bro." Don commiserated, lowering his voice. He glanced warily at Schiller but the man didn't lift up his head, he just kept on reading. Perhaps the sounds from the TV drowned out their low voices or maybe the madman was just ignoring them; the agent didn't really care what the reason was just as long as he left them alone."Are you okay?"

Charlie shifted around to meet his gaze. "Yeah….sure." He forced a corner of his mouth to turn upward in an effort to relieve the anxiety in his brother's eyes. "Sure… could use a couple… of aspirins… though."

"Yeah," Don agreed, his brow furrowing with worry. "I'll bet you could buddy."

"Any ideas?" Charlie asked in an attempt to change the subject; might as well try and think of something constructive because as far as he was concerned this subject was at a dead end.

"Lots," Don huffed ruefully, "but none that I can use as long as I'm trussed to this chair."

"Right, I…." Charlie's voice suddenly trailed off as he caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Simultaneously, they turned to face the desk just as Schiller stood up. With trepidation the brothers watched as he rounded the desk and in just three long strides was once again standing behind their chairs.

"It's time we got started." Schiller ordered gruffly.

Charlie felt a tug at his hands and suddenly his arms fell limply at his sides. He shared a surprised look with Don before Ludwig shoved him roughly on the shoulder and ordered him to stand. He rose slowly but swayed slightly as he stood erect; still suffering from the effects of the man's most recent assault. Charlie took a step backward and stumbled over the broken hour glass; bits and pieces of wood and glass crunched loudly beneath his shoes. The young man staggered sideways until he could balance himself by holding on to the edge of his desk and tried to remain still until his light-headiness faded. His head jerked up suddenly; Schiller had asked him a question.

"Wh…what?"

"What is the square root of 2007?"

Charlie blinked, clearly confused by the man's question. "_Why would he ask me such a simple question? What is he up too now?" _His musings were cut short bya sudden loud cracking sound when Schiller slammed the cane down on the desk, barely missing his fingers.

"Answer me!" he snarled.

"44.7995535 give or take a digit or two." Charlie replied breathlessly.

"That's better. I had to make certain that all of your faculties are in working order."

"Then maybe you shouldn't knock him around so much." Don advised heatedly.

"Now pay attention Eppes." Ludwig ordered coldly, ignoring Don once again. He pulled the gun from his pocket and waived it in front of the mathematician's face. "Hold out your hands."

Hesitantly, Charlie stretched out his arms, eyes locked on the gun in Schiller's hand. "_Don would take it away from him_." He almost made an attempt but suddenly realized that Don could get shot if it went off so he did as he was told and did nothing as the gunman rebound his hands.

"Move." Ludwig ordered with a nod toward the whiteboards." Over there."

Charlie took a deep breath and shuffled forward; taking up a stance beside the whiteboard labeled _Failures _he stood motionless and watched as Schiller referred to the notebook that he had been perusing through only moments before. When he picked up a marker and approached one of the boards Charlie tried to clear his mind; he was going to need all of his faculties in order to defend himself when Schiller started ripping apart his life's work.

Elton John's "Rocket Man" suddenly began to play adding to the cacophony of noises coming from the TV set. Three heads swiveled toward the sound, resonating from somewhere beneath the sofa.

When the tune finally faded into silence Ludwig paused with the marker against the board; eyes darting to the young mathematician. "Whose ringtone was that?" He snapped, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Ah…" Charlie cleared his throat. "Ah….that was Larry's."

"Fleinhardt?" The older man glanced at the clock and then back to Charlie. "It's almost eleven o'clock, isn't that a little late for him to be calling?"

"No." Charlie hastily replied. "He knew I was working late and probably just wanted to see how I was doing?" There was no reason for him to lie so he just told him the simple truth and hoped that it would be enough.

Ludwig studied him a moment longer and then turned his attention back to the board; scribbling a few more words before stopping again. "Rocket Man, huh?" He muttered sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. "Appropriate, I suppose, but it's beyond me how that slacker ever made it into space."

Charlie's eyes flared with anger at Ludwig's off-handed insult to his friend and had just opened his mouth to issue a sharp retort when he caught movement in his peripheral vision and glanced sideways at his brother. Don was anxiously trying to get his attention, to warn him not to say anything that would antagonize the madman to strike him again. With a curt nod to his brother to affirm that he understood he clamped his jaw shut and bit back his cutting remark. Schiller's arrogance was grating on his nerves and despite the threat of bodily harm Charlie really wasn't sure how much longer he could keep his mouth shut.

"Let us begin." His old professor said, moving to the board marked achievements."Becoming a freshman at Princeton when you were thirteen was quite an achievement and at fourteen you became the youngest person to ever publish a paper in the American Journal of Mathematics. The following year you won the Milton Prize for your _Theory on Random Matrices._"

Charlie shifted his weight in an attempt to relieve the strain on his legs; his whole body throbbed with a dull ache from Schiller's previous assaults and standing in one position for a long period of time just seemed to acerbate the problem.

At his movement Schiller spared him a brief glance; dismissing the motion as a possible threat he returned his attention back to the white board and continued to write.

Don watched with bated breath as Schiller reviewed his brother's years at Princeton. The man was so volatile that he expected him to switch personas at any given moment and strike out at Charlie again. He let his gaze drift over his brother, noting the tightness around his eyes and the painful wince that crossed his face when he shifted his weight. Charlie had to be in a lot of pain and Don's heart swelled with pride at his brother's efforts to keep that fact from the crazy man at his side. His eyes flickered back to Schiller and the white boards; the one marked failures was still blank but given the man's crazed state of mind, he had little hope that it would remain that way.

Something that Colby had said while they were discussing the case suddenly came to mind and he tilted his head to the side as he tried to recall the agent's exact words. They had been discussing the magazines found at each crime scene and Colby had said that it reminded him of an old TV show called _This is Your Life. _There was just one indisputable difference as Don saw it, one glaring incontrovertible fact; instead of getting a scrapbook commemorating his life's work like the recipient's did at the end of the show, his brother was more likely to receive a bullet to his brain. He squeezed his eyes shut as the photographs of the dead victim's brushed across his mind; he just couldn't let that happen to his brother…..there had to be a way out of this. His eyes popped open abruptly when Schiller started speaking again and he focused all of his attention on the madman.

"In your senior year you astounded all of us with your representation theory, _The Eppes Convergence." _Ludwig said, stepping back and crossing his arms. "That was certainly an impressive body of work…..especially at such a young age."

"That's right, it was." Don agreed, hoping to convince Schiller to change his plans. "As you can see he's doing very well now so your concerns are totally unfounded." He waited for a response but all Ludwig did was glare at him so he tried another tactic. "You know, you look really tired, so since this session isn't really necessary maybe you should go back to your hotel and get some rest."

It was as if Don didn't even exist to Schiller as he turned back to the boards and the young man standing quietly beside of them. Frowning, he approached the board marked _failures_ and suddenly scribbled in one word…._discipline._

Charlie arched an eyebrow and raised his chin defiantly; brown eyes smoldering with anger but kept silent while he waited for his former professor to explain why he had written it there.

Ludwig pocketed the revolver and picked up the cane; absently tapping it lightly against the palm of his hand as he looked at the board. Finally, he turned and met Charlie's eye.

"I should have been your mentor, not Fleinhardt." He said disdainfully. "I would have taught you with an iron hand…_with discipline_!"

Schiller was becoming more and more agitated; dredging up the long forgotten memories was forcing him to relive the humiliation and anger that he had suffered when Charlie had been removed from his class. He began to pace around in a small circle constantly slapping the cane against his palm; each slap becoming faster and harder by the second.

Abruptly he stopped in front of Charlie and stared down his nose at him. "It's a pity that you were not allowed to finish my class in your freshman year because you would have benefited greatly from my guidance."

Charlie's breath quickened but yet he remained silent; he recognized the signs, Schiller's personality was about to shift and he didn't want to push him over the edge.

"It was that woman!" Ludwig hissed menacingly." It was your mother's fault; she is the one who had you removed from my class."

"Shut up!" Charlie shouted, appalled that the man had the audacity to blame his mother for anything.

"Shut your mouth Schiller!" Don yelled, angered at the way Schiller spoke of his mother.

"You were young, but you were smart." Ludwig said accusingly, ignoring them both. "You could have insisted to remain in my class….and yet you didn't."

"You can't blame him for that Schiller," Don cried out anxiously, hoping to prevent a violent confrontation, "he was only thirteen years old...he was just a little kid." Don didn't know the story of Charlie's and Schiller's past but he got the gist of it.

Ludwig continued to stare at Charlie as he pondered the agent's words. "Hmmm, I suppose that should be taken into consideration. She was a foul, intemperate woman and was jealous of the opportunities that I could give you."

"Don't you dare talk about my mother that way!" Charlie and his brother yelled almost simultaneously.

Charlie was seething with rage; no one was going to talk about his mother that way and get away with it. As a mathematician he used logic in all aspects of decision making and his logical mind was urgently warning him to keep his mouth shut; to take a step back and re-evaluate the situation. He would never let his emotions trump his math but this wasn't math…this was personal. To hell with restraint!

"You can't blame my mother for that!" Charlie shouted furiously, pointing his bound hands at the man. "I may have been only thirteen but I was smart enough to realize that _**you**_ were holding me back!" He raised his chin defiantly. "I asked her to take me out of _**your **_class because I had already surpassed _**your limited abilities**__!" _That was a lie, of course; at least the part where he had asked to be removed from the class but Schiller didn't know that.

Charlie knew he had gone too far, saw the shift in the man's eyes, but he didn't care anymore: his over-whelming desire to make Ludwig pay for his cutting words had finally pushed the man over the edge.

With a loud roar Schiller grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him forward until their faces were only inches apart.

"Three strokes of the cane for your insolence." Ludwig's lip curled in contempt. "We'll see what kind of man that you really are Eppes."

"No!" Don cried out desperately, "Professor….please…he didn't mean it…don't….don't hurt him!"

Schiller's head swiveled in the agent's direction and then he raised the cane and pointed it at him. "One stroke for you for your infernal interference."

"Fine!" Don shouted, anger flaring in his eyes. "Come and get me… just leave him alone!"

"All in good time." Ludwig muttered in annoyance and shoved Charlie forward until he was standing in front of the desk. "Turn around and face the windows" When Charlie hesitated; he pulled the revolver from his pocket and pointed it at Don. "Do it now."

Wide-eyed, Charlie glanced at his brother then ducked his head and slowly turned around; he had no choice, Ludwig would shoot Don if he tried to resist.

"Good, now stand straight up with your feet two inches apart."

Charlie spread his feet apart and planted them firmly on the floor. "_I can do this, he thought fiercely, "I won't cry out and I won't go down, I won't!" _He gritted his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the first blow.

Don watched helplessly as Schiller flexed the cane; bending it and taking swings at the air for practice. He smiled wolfishly as he moved into position and raised his arm over his head; the cane sliced through the air with a whizzing sound and hit the tender flesh of Charlie's back with a sharp crack.

The blow forced a grunt from the young professor and he staggered forward a few feet but he remained standing. His heart was pounding in his chest as he waited for the second blow but he was still unprepared for it when the cane struck him again. He stumbled again but kept his feet, gritting his teeth so that he wouldn't cry out. The third stroke landed squarely in the middle of his back with a sharp cracking noise and he fell to his knees. On trembling legs he rose up and turned around to face Schiller; for a brief moment his dark brown eyes still reflected defiance. Charlie had felt no pain at first, just the violent blow itself and a warm burning sensation but as feeling slowly returned, the heat became unbearably painful; it felt like someone was sticking a red-hot poker against his back. His back tingled and then suddenly it felt like his whole body was throbbing with pain.

"Go sit in the chair." Ludwig commanded imperiously, twirling the cane around in the air.

Dazed with pain, Charlie staggered forward, wavering on his feet as he came to a standstill beside the chair. He didn't look at his brother but concentrated on trying to sit down without letting the inflamed flesh of his back touch anything. Once seated he sat stiffly, holding his body in a rigid position so that he wouldn't accidentally come in contact with the back of the chair which would most certainly intensify the throbbing pain that was consuming him. Charlie was so engrossed in his efforts that he hadn't noticed that Schiller had released his hands but he nearly cried out when the man jerked his arms behind him forcing his back to make contact with the chair. Charlie's control of the pain was tenuous at best but he managed to turn the cry into an audible groan at the very last second.

Angrily, Don twisted around in his chair so that he could see Schiller. "You bastard!" he shouted in a voice already hoarse from screaming at Ludwig while he was beating his brother.

"I believe it is your turn." Ludwig snarled, coming around to stand in front of the agent. He was swift with his perceived justice and brought the cane down hard across the agent's upper thighs.

Don gasped in agony but refused to cry out; he wasn't going to give the man the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt him. His eyes began to water as the burning sensation began to spread through his legs and the throbbing pain began. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes as he watched Ludwig sit back down at the desk and pick up another notebook; the two personalities had once again switched places.

Painfully, Don turned to face his brother. "Char...lie?" He called out in a strangled whisper just as a wave of pain washed over him but he didn't receive any response. Charlie was staring at the floor; his head slightly bent forward. His face was pale and a fine sheen of sweat plastered his dark curls to his forehead. His whole body was trembling from the excruciating waves of pain and he was panting heavily in an effort to deal with it.

Don swallowed thickly and forced his eyes away as a wave of pain enveloped him. Schiller had only hit him once with the cane so he could only imagine how much worse it must have been for his brother. His eyes drifted to the clock on the wall and widened in surprise; it was only eleven-thirty but it felt as if he had been there a life time. It was hard to believe that only two hours had passed since his arrival. A vision of all of the marks on the previous victims vividly crossed his mind and he suddenly became sick to his stomach. How many times had Schiller beaten them before he killed them? Although it felt like this was the longest night of his life he knew all too well that five o'clock was only a few short hours away and that thought was beginning to scare the hell out of him.

"_Oh, God," Don prayed desperately, drawing in a shuddering breath, "please let someone intervene before it's too late."_

_TBC_


	21. Chapter 21

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By 1__st__ endeavor_

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1:

Spoilers: "Sabotage" and "Convergence"

A/N: As always, I appreciate your reviews and alerts.

_"Any form of corporal punishment is a violent attack upon another human being's integrity. The effect remains with the victim forever and becomes an unforgiving part of his or her personality-a massive frustration resulting in a hostility which will seek expression in later life in violent acts towards others. __**Ashley Montagu**_

Chapter 21:

Larry sighed audibly and closed his cell phone; slipping it back into his pants pocket as he wearily made his way to the kitchen in search of a much needed cup of tea. It was _soooo _like Charles to ignore his calls when he was working on a problem…..or perhaps, he thought excitedly, his friend had had another breakthrough on his Cognitive Emergence Theory. The last time Charlie had pulled an "all-nighter" at CalSci he had just moved into his new office and had written equations all over the unpacked boxes that had been stacked about the room. The tired professor paused and stared blankly at the counter…. now that was an exciting thought…. _wouldn't it be marvelous if Charles had gotten another brainstorm_? Smiling at the prospect he opened the cupboard door to grab a mug and a teabag. Absently, he filled the mug with water and popped it into the microwave for sixty seconds then plopped the teabag into the hot water. A plate filled with chocolate chip cookies caught his eye and he helped himself to one and munched on it while his teabag steeped for a few minutes longer.

Finally, cup in hand, along with a couple of more cookies he pushed through the swinging door of the kitchen and made his way toward the solarium. The rustle of his jeans seemed loud to his ears as he walked through the quiet house and a feeling of uneasiness washed over him. He couldn't put his finger on it but he had the strangest feeling that something was very wrong.

"_Perhaps it's the case that's causing me to feel this way_," he mused as he made his way up the stairs to the second floor. At the top of the stairway he turned to the left and approached the solarium. The professor switched on the overhead light and glanced around the room; with a plank floor and windows for walls, it gave one the impression that you were outdoors but with all of the comforts of being inside. Larry looked around and smiled; this room above all others welcomed him like an old friend.

After setting his cup and cookies on the small table next to the sofa he wandered over to the corner of the room where Alan had said the boxes should be and sat down cross-legged on the floor. His eyes drifted toward the windows and the physicist paused to look up at the stars; he clearly understood why Charlie liked to work out here. From his position on the floor he could look up and gaze at the heavens or glance down and view the beautifully landscaped back yard. Momentarily distracted by the view his thoughts drifted back to the time when he was orbiting the earth on the space station. It had been the experience of a lifetime and one that had left an indelible mark on him forever; a sense of awe that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

Larry shook himself out of his reverie and opened the first box. It held papers and letters from faculty and friends as well as a number of Charlie's dissertations; not wanting to intrude on his friend's privacy he quickly closed the lid and moved on to the next box. This one was more promising but just when he was beginning to think that he had another wrong box, the yearbooks turned up. He stacked the three books on the floor and quickly refilled the box with the ones that he had removed, then picking up the books he stiffly rose to his feet and shuffled over to the old couch.

The professor slipped off his shoes and sat down; tucking his feet beneath him. He spotted an old afghan that was lying across the back of the sofa and spread it out over his legs then sighing contentedly he picked up his teacup and took a sip of the warm liquid.

"_Ah, just what I needed,_ "he thought as he relaxed and pulled Charlie's senior yearbook into his lap.

**00000000000000000000**

Don's normally stoic attitude was beginning to crumble; he was not a man to panic easily but any hope of saving his brother's life was quickly spiraling out of his reach. Over the years of working with the FBI he had successfully helped rescue many people from an assortment of hostage situations and it galled him to think that he might fail in the one case where the victim meant so much to him. The fact that he was a prisoner too was just an excuse; one that he was not willing to accept….there had to be a way out…a way out for both of them. He felt helpless; all of the skills and experience that he had gained during his career suddenly seemed useless; if they couldn't help him save his brother then what had it all been for?

The theme song from "Taxi" echoed around the room followed by the voices of some of its stars, Judd Hirsch, Marilu Henner and Christopher Lloyd. The old sitcom happened to be a favorite of his but tonight it held no joy for him; he had ears only for the discussion taking place by the blackboard in front of him. The painful throbbing in his legs had finally given way to a dull ache clearing his mind enough to follow the current conversation between his brother and the crazy man holding them captive.

Charlie was once again standing next to one of the whiteboards; there were dark circles beneath his eyes and lines of pain were etched into his pale face. He held his body rigid in an effort to keep the worst of the agonizing spasms at bay but he wasn't always successful. Intermittent tremors would shake his body and he would squeeze his eyes shut; clamping his jaw tightly until the pain had passed.

In a strained voice he rattled off another answer in response to a question from his former professor. If Schiller noticed his discomfort he was ignoring it; the man appeared to be in his own world, slipping in and out of teacher mode as he demanded theories, algorithms, and solutions to complex problems from his brother. Charlie had to do the calculations in his head and if he was too slow Ludwig would list his answers, even though correct, in the failures column. This usually triggered a debate between the two men and although Schiller would listen to the younger man's arguments he would never change the mark that he had put on the board.

Don could tell that Charlie's injuries were slowing him down; there were times when he would bring his bound hands up to his mouth, fists clenched tightly, and tap his lips nervously as he desperately sought for the answers. It was a losing battle though because despite his brother's best efforts, the list of failures was growing at an alarming rate and Ludwig was giving them higher ratings than Charlie's achievements. Clearly, Schiller had already decided on the outcome of this charade despite his brother's impressive body of work.

Don was amazed by the number of articles, published papers and awards that his younger brother had amassed in his short years, twice the amount that he had seen at the crime scenes of the other victims but even they weren't enough to satisfy Schiller.

Sadly, he realized that he knew very little of his brother's accomplishments and now he regretted it deeply. His eyes flitted over the whiteboard looking for anything familiar and came to rest on an award called "The Milton Prize" but he remembered the name because Amita had won it a few years ago, not because his brother had won it when he was just fourteen. "_I should have known about it," he berated himself bitterly, "I should have known that my little brother had won such a prestigious award." _But Don had been too busywith his own life and trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and his "genius" younger brother to take notice of anything that Charlie was doing.

Don continued to scan the board and paused at another entry. A paper that Charlie had published while he was at MIT called_ " H Infinity Control of Non-Linear Systems" _but , as before, he only remembered it because someone that he had been working with on a case recognized his brother and mentioned the paper.

"_Wait," he thought anxiously, whipping his head around, "what did Schiller just say?"_

"You lose points for the "Eppes Convergence" in 2005." Schiller said marking in another failure on the whiteboard and adding ten more points to the failure column. He walked over to the blackboard and pushed the _failures _up higher on the graph then turned back around to face the younger man. "Another mathematician….ah," he paused as he read over his notes, "a Marshall Penfield discovered a flaw in the infinite dimensional simplex. Hmm…it does appear that he had a valid point in the end point process on the one dimensional lattice."

"Yes…but….but I resolved that issue a few days later," Charlie anxiously countered, his voice raising an octave in panic. "The variation I came up with negated the need for the flawed section so the Eppes Convergence still holds as a solid mathematical theory. I named it the Penfield Variation," he swallowed hard and then hastily added, "and...and that should easily offset the ten points that you added to the failure column."

"Hmm….perhaps. I shall consider your evaluation." Ludwig responded thoughtfully then began to pace back and forth in front of the windows while he pondered the matter.

Don gaped in surprise at his brother while his thoughts whirled back to the year 2005. Penfield had found a flaw in Charlie's big breakthrough and yet he had never heard a word about it. Why hadn't Charlie told him? Not that he could have helped in any way, most of Charlie's work was way over his head but he would have listened and offered support. They had been working together on a home invasion case so he certainly had plenty of opportunity to bring it up and yet he had never said a word about it. Don glanced aside; Charlie must have been really freaked out by it but had continued to work on the case anyway….and what had Don done? His face suddenly reddened as he remembered how hard that he had pushed his brother during the case and all the while Charlie had been dealing someone who was ripping apart his life's work_. "Oh, buddy, I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you." He thought guiltily_. Suddenly the agent caught a quick motion out of the corner of his eye and he looked up as Schiller almost tripped over something lying on the floor.

Swearing irritably Ludwig kicked Don's jacket out of his way. Two pairs of dark eyes anxiously followed its course as it slid across the wooden floor and landed in a crumpled heap within inches of Charlie's feet.

Barely daring to breathe, the young professor looked away to prevent Schiller from noticing his interest in the jacket. It was so close….if only he could just reach down and pick it up. He knew the key to Don's handcuffs would be in the lower right hand pocket; his brother was predictable that way. The agent was organized almost to the point of obsession and knew exactly where he put everything. The key was no exception; Don always kept in the right hand pocket of whatever he happened to be wearing.

Charlie glanced furtively at his brother and their eyes locked; along with the pain reflected in their brown eyes there was now a glimmer of light, a vestige of hope for the first time since their nightmare had begun.

**00000000000000000**

A soft smile crossed Larry's face as he ran his hand fondly over the front of the book; his fingers stopping to trace the black and orange shield that was embossed in the middle of the cover. He opened the book and slowly turned the pages as his old memories began to surface. Photographs of the campus adorned the first few pages and Jadwin Hall, the main physics building caught his eye. He scratched his beard as he thought of the many science experiments that he had performed at the Elementary Particles Laboratory and Palmer Halls facilities located there. The majority of them had been successful but there had also been failures. Larry taught his students that the failed experiments were just as important as the successful ones; discoveries were made through trial and error, he always told them, for you could not have one without the other.

He turned the pages slowly, reliving his years at Princeton through the photographs of the faculty, students and the campus. Larry chuckled softly, despite the fact that he had always insisted that he didn't have many friends while he was at Princeton, Charlie had somehow managed to get an impressive amount of people to autograph his yearbook. There were signatures from his fellow students and the faculty at Princeton on almost every page but then, he reflected thoughtfully, who would miss the opportunity to sign the yearbook of someone that everyone predicted would be the next Einstein? He turned the page and found the perfect example of his assessment; Marshall Penfield and Charlie had been bitter rivals and his signature was the last one that Larry would have expected to find in his yearbook.

_To Eppesy:_

_I 'm sure that we will meet again and I will keep my button "Don't believe the hype!" on hand for future use." _

_Marshall Penfield_

It was amazing how a few years passage could turn things around; both men had come to terms with their feelings and had not only worked together on two of Don's cases but now held a mutual respect for one another's work. With a slight shake of his head at the turn of events Larry flipped over another page and then laughed out loud at the message he found written there.

_To Charlie,_

_As you have been sliding down the banister of your life, I hope I've been a splinter in your career. Ha! Ha! Seriously, it's been a pleasure knowing you and I hope our friendship will continue to grow in the coming years. Keep in touch._

_Your friend,_

_Tommy Hill_

_(P.S. I can't believe that a kid five years younger than me is graduating a year ahead of me…oh, the shame!)_

Larry picked up a cookie and nibbled at it thoughtfully; during their years at Princeton, Tom and Charlie had become inseparable. It was as if Tom had taken on the role of a big brother and had stayed connected even when their chosen fields put them in different classes. They had kept in touch after graduation and their friendship had only grown stronger.

A yawn escaped his lips and he rubbed at eyes clouded with fatigue before turning the remaining pages and closing the book. The professor picked up the next yearbook, Charlie's junior year, and began to flip through the pages. Almost immediately another signature caught his eye; Henri Yang, one of the murder victims.

Immediately his thoughts turned back to the case; if one victim had signed his friend's book it was reasonable to assume that Charles had shared classes with the other victims as well. Larry sat up straighter and in a more subdued mood focused his search on the names of the murder victims. He found them all, of course, but they were in different classes; a few had joined the same clubs but never more than two of them. He closed that book and picked up the remaining yearbook. Charlie had skipped his sophomore year by taking the necessary classes he needed while he was still a freshman so the professor would have to research that year on-line.

Larry's eyelids were getting heavy but he tried to fight the fatigue as he flipped open the cover of the last book. He shifted his position in an effort to get more comfortable; propping his elbow on the arm of the couch he leaned his head against his hand. After a short while his head became heavier but he stubbornly continued to press on; bleary-eyed he forged ahead and slowly turned the pages of the book. Just as he turned to the page containing the photograph of Charlie and the other victims his hand suddenly went limp, covering the very photograph that would provide the answers to the case. Larry's head dropped back against the sofa and his other arm drifted to his side as his body sagged back against the cushions.

A soft snore echoed around the small solarium as the professor drifted off to sleep; his hand still nestled between the pages of the book.

_**00000000000000000**_

Charlie viewed it as a two-part problem. One, he needed a way to get the key from his brother's jacket without arousing any suspicion and two; he had to get the key to his brother. He resisted an over-whelming desire to drop to his knees and get the key by keeping a wary eye on Schiller as he paced back and forth. The man appeared to be arguing with someone, presumably his other self, on whether or not he should give Charlie any more points for "The Eppes Convergence."

His thoughts drifted back to the problem at hand; getting the key. Charlie glanced down briefly, noting the position of the jacket as an idea began to form in his mind. Saying it wouldn't be easy was a huge understatement but his plan just might be a way to resolve the first problem; the second one wouldn't matter if his attempt was unsuccessful.

**_0000_**

It was a two-part problem as Don saw it. One, Charlie had to find a way to get the key without Schiller realizing what he was doing and two: his brother had to figure out a way to put the key in his hands.

Don glanced sideways at Schiller as he paced back and forth then lowered his head, considering their options. All Charlie had to do was take a couple of steps backward and he would be standing on the jacket but the hard part was bending down to get the key without being noticed. There just might be a way, he mused as an idea came to him, it would be risky but it would be worth it if Charlie was successful; he would worry about the second part of the problem later. His head jerked up suddenly; his eyes narrowing suspiciously when Ludwig came to a standstill in front of the windows.

Decision made, Schiller suddenly turned and strode back to the whiteboard. He was in a highly agitated state and both brother's watched him warily as he stopped in front of Charlie.

"I have decided to award you five points for your variation." He announced imperiously, then turned and rapidly wriote the points on the board.

Charlie opened his mouth to reply but gave the man a quick nod instead; there was no point in trying to reason with the man, he had lost his sanity long before his arrival at CalSci. Charlie licked his lips and ducked his head, still working on a way to get his hands on the key but jumped suddenly when Schiller abruptly bolted toward his desk.

Schiller picked up Charlie's book "The Attraction Equation: Being Popular is as Easy as Pi," and turned to face the young mathematician. He waved the book over his head triumphantly, as if it was the verification that he needed to prove his point.

"It is time to discuss this monstrosity!" Ludwig said scornfully, his eyes narrowing menacingly as he gazed at the young man.

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By 1st Endeavor_

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for your reviews.

Chapter 22:

"Explain to me, Dr. Eppes, how someone with_ your_ abilities could write this kind of _trash!"_ Schiller demanded shrilly, swaggering over to stand in front of the young professor. He callously tossed the book in the waste can beside of the desk. "That," he said scornfully, pointing to the can "was a flagrant misuse of your talents."

"Hey!" Don shouted angrily, hoping to draw the lunatic's attention away from his brother. "He doesn't have to explain anything to you. It's his life….he can do what he wants to with it! Oh…and by the way, _that _book was on the bestseller's list for months…millions of people read it! "

Ludwig twisted around and glared at Charlie's brother; his eyes raking him up and down in disdain. "This does not concern you…now_ shut_ up!" He warned sharply then turned back to confront his former student, dismissing the agent as if he were nothing more than a bothersome insect.

"I bet you can't say that …can you Schiller?" Don taunted relentlessly. "Have you even written any books? Wait; let me clarify that…any books that people would actually want to read?"

Don's plan was to distract Schiller and give Charlie time to get the key to his handcuffs but he was also worried that the man's personality was on the verge of shifting to his _dark _side and that he would lash out at his brother again. It was more difficult than he had anticipated; although he saw Ludwig's shoulders stiffen up in response to his comments, the man didn't turn around but kept berating his brother over the book.

**000**

Charlie flinched; he knew where this was going. Schiller was definitely going to list his book in the failures category which in turn would push his _so called_ failures even higher on the graph. He wasn't really surprised at the man's reaction; there had been times that he had regretted publishing it as well.

At the urging of his publicist his original paper a "Mathematical Analysis of Friendship Dynamics" was turned into a self help book instead of a textbook and the title was changed to "The Attraction Equation: Being Popular is as Easy as Pi." Charlie had only agreed to the change because he wanted to get more people interested in math and they had convinced him that this was the best way to accomplish it. His book had become very popular, not only nationwide but worldwide as well, and had remained on the bestsellers list for over a year but not for the reasons that he had hoped for. Much to his dismay it seemed to him that the more popular the book became the further it got away from the math. The academic world had embraced his original paper but they had paid little attention to the book; this had not hurt his career but neither had it added to his professional standing.

Schiller strode purposely for the whiteboard and picked up a green marker then without hesitation scrawled the number ten in the failures column.

"_No surprise there." _Charlie thought bitterly as Schiller flashed him a triumphant grin."_Now what?" _He wondered anxiously as he watched the man return to the desk and pick up his notebook.

"The next thing on my list is this ludicrous class of yours…this…this so called "Math for Non-mathematicians Class. It's _totally absurd!" _Ludwig announced in a sanctimonious tone of voice; eyebrows arching up in disbelief.

Charlie's face flushed red; dark eyes seething with hatred. Since Ludwig's arrival he had experienced a whirlwind of emotions; fear, horror and grief at the violent loss of his friend Tom. He was terrified over his brother's safety and the very real threat of his own demise; the physical assault against him had taken its toll as well. His heart began to race and his breath came more rapidly as he drew himself up to his full height and stared at the man responsible for it all. Charlie tried…he _really_ did…_tried_ his best to control his anger but the man's holier-than-thou, over pious, self-righteous attitude had finally tipped him over the edge.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Charlie spat vehemently, raising his chin defiantly as he took a deliberate step backwards …and one step closer to his brother's jacket. "You have put down everything that I have ever done and accused me of doing ridiculous things while you strut around pretending that…that…what you're doing is noble and will gain you meritorious recognition! Nothing that you have done since you left Princeton will bring you any form of redemption. Dr. Schiller you have been murdering innocent people under the guise of _helping them_! Do_ you_ have any idea how ludicrous that sounds? You haven't helped your former students…_**you killed them!"**_

Ludwig trembled with rage; hands clenched tightly at his side, but said nothing as he listened to Charlie's triad.

"The people that you killed had a right to live their own lives," Charlie said in a tremulous voice filled with anger and passion, "just like I do!" His head swiveled toward the whiteboards. "Your evaluations make no sense at all. We are mathematicians, we have been trained to think logically and yet I cannot find one shred of logic that was used in the values written on those boards…only the demented scrawls of a sick man." Charlie turned his gaze back to Schiller and his heart fluttered; there was no intelligence reflected in the man's hazel eyes…. no evidence that he had comprehended anything that he had just said…. only a blank stare lit by madness. After a moment's hesitation he pushed on, he had to see this through to the end. "You had no right to make judgments over them any more than you have a right to judge me."

"Shut your mouth!" Schiller hissed, spittle flying from his lips.

"Charlie, stop it!" Don shouted anxiously, making an attempt to intercede. What the hell was his brother thinking; was he trying to get himself killed?

"Turn around Schiller and talk to me!" The agent yelled loudly in another attempt to distract the man but Charlie had his full attention and nothing he said made any difference.

The young man's eyes darted briefly toward his brother; Don's face was a mask of fear, fear for him but something inside of Charlie had snapped and he couldn't stop himself now. He swallowed hard and returned his gaze to his former professor, pushing even harder, knowing full well what the consequences would be. It wasn't all anger fueling him though, he had a plan and if it worked he would be able to give his brother a fighting chance. That was his driving force; a desperate attempt to help Don survive this night. Nothing else mattered to him…only that and Charlie was willing to endure anything that Ludwig did to him if it gave him a chance to help his brother; Don had always had his back when they were kids and now he had been given a chance to be there for him. Charlie was determined not to fail his brother so he took a deep breath as he weighed and measured Ludwig's emotional state then let loose with a stream of words that he was certain would be the tipping point.

"Dr. Schiller, you have an enormous ego to even think that you are my equal…you don't even come close." His voice was full of contempt, cold and unyielding. "Your IQ is so far below mine that you can't even comprehend a tenth of my mathematical concepts!" He waited with bated breath and didn't need to see the feral grin that suddenly appeared on Ludwig's face to know that he had succeeded and yet he couldn't resist one last jab.

Charlie locked eyes with him and hissed. "You're mad Schiller…you're totally insane!"

Livid with rage, Schiller spun on his heels, strode to the desk and snatched up the cane. "I…am…not mad!" He yelled, shaking the cane in the air as he closed the distance between them. "I am more than qualified to make this analysis! "

Charlie swallowed hard and took another step backwards as the angry man came to a standstill in front of him. His breathing increased and his hands turned cold at the sight of the savage gleam in the madman's eyes.

"Your disrespect has earned you _six_ strokes of the cane." Ludwig sneered as a malicious smile crept up his face.

Charlie blanched; six, he hadn't expected that many. Nonetheless, he held his chin high and without a single word of protest slowly turned around to face the windows. As he firmed his stance the toe of his right shoe nudged a sleeve of his brother's jacket and he prayed that he would have enough strength left to look for the key when he hit the floor.

**000000000000000000**

Grady glanced up at the lighted window as he approached the math building. A corner of the heavy drape had been pulled aside and he could see movement through the sheer panel.

The campus security guard clicked on his radio. "There are still a few people at the lab and it looks like Professor Eppes is still working in his office."

"Do you think that he's even aware that it is one-thirty in the morning?"

Grady snickered. "That's a hard one to guess Jake. You know how the professor's are when they have a project due."

"Roger that."

Grady waved his flashlight over the bushes as he walked beneath the windows. He paused suddenly and tilted his head upward. "_Was that a shout?"_He held his breath, listening intently for any sounds coming from the building but could only hear the faint sounds of music emanating from the professor's office. He began to relax a few moments later when he recognized the theme song from "Happy Days."

The guard chuckled and moved on humming the song as he walked away. Grady turned the corner and spied the parking lot; Don's SUV still sat alongside of his brother's car.

"I guess the Professor is more stubborn than Don." He snorted as he opened the door to the central security office and went inside.

**00000000000000000**

The dreadful whizzing sound of the descending cane resonated through the office; it's sharp cracking sound when it his backside sounded more like a pistol shot to his ears but despite the pain Charlie held his ground, determined to see it through to the last stroke.

The second stroke caught him across his shoulders, causing him to stagger slightly but he didn't falter. "_Find the key…I've got to find the key_" became a mantra in his head and he managed to concentrate on it through the third and fourth strokes. He swayed on his feet but he stayed conscious as the fifth one struck his back in a spot where he had been hit once before. This one drew blood; he could feel the warm liquid sliding down his back.

"_Was it five or six hits…..he couldn't remember anymore_." His thoughts were becoming jumbled as the pain became excruciating. Charlie shuddered uncontrollably as the whizzing sound heralded the coming of the sixth stroke; striking him hard on the backs of his thighs. The blow knocked him flat, stunned him. Barely conscious he lay on the floor; gasping and dizzy with agony. He felt something silky and cool beneath his cheek and realized that he was face down in the folds of his brother's jacket. The smell of Don's cologne assailed his senses helping him to fight back the engulfing darkness. He became aware of loud voices and opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to try and clear them before raising his head to see what was going on.

Ludwig had his back to him and was involved in a shouting match with his brother.

Suddenly Charlie remembered the key and struggled to sit up but the ensuing pain forced him to his knees instead. Panting against the pain he slid his hands into one of the jacket pockets…. only to find it empty. Frantically, he glanced behind him; they were still arguing so he continued his desperate search. Finally, a sob of relief escaped his lips as his fingers closed around the elusive key. Gingerly, he sat back on his haunches and with shaking hands he slipped the key into his pants pocket. A violent shudder coursed through him; it felt as if every nerve in his body was on fire.

Charlie lurched to his feet, staggering sideways until he could steady himself against the blackboard. His whole body was throbbing with pain; even his jaw ached from where he had gritted his teeth so hard. Too weak to move his body, his gazed drifted around the room and came to rest on Don's gun, lying on top of the coffee table. He glanced sideways; Ludwig still had his back turned toward him, maybe he could get to the gun and end this nightmare.

**000**

"Nooooooo!" Don cried out as his brother hit the floor. "Stop it! You're killing him!"

Annoyed, Schiller turned and glared at the agent; he'd forgotten all about the professor's brother. Why couldn't he just shut up and mind his own business? The agent was a waste of his valuable time but he could see that he had no choice; he was going to have to teach the bothersome man some manners. With malice in his eyes he strode over to confront Charlie's brother.

"You need to learn to keep your mouth shut!"

"You hit him with that thing one more time and I swear that I will kill you!" Don replied furiously. "Some how, some way, I will make you pay!" He'd lost all reason; he didn't even know if Charlie was still alive.

Schiller raised the cane over his head and growled. "I think it's time to teach you some manners!"

In a desperate attempt to save himself, Don brought his legs up and with all of his might kicked Ludwig in the abdomen. The old professor doubled over, gasping for breath, and staggered backwards against the desk; the cane dropped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.

Don hurriedly got into position in case the man came at him again; he didn't know if it would work again but it was all that he had. He cast a frantic glance sideways for his brother but tried to keep one eye on the maniac in front of him.

"Charlie!" He called out anxiously but he received no response; he couldn't see him, Ludwig and the desk blocked him from view. "Charlie!"

There was a flurry of movement and Don's eyes darted back to the madman.

Schiller screamed loudly and charged, sidestepping the agent's attempt to kick him again. He doubled his fist and punched him in the face then grabbed the top of the chair and pulled it over backwards.

**0000**

Charlie decided that in his current condition he would never make it to Don's gun without being seen so he glanced around for something else that he could use as a weapon. The shouting suddenly escalated and Charlie looked over just as Ludwig knocked Don's chair over. Forgetting about a weapon he lurched forward but his movements were slow and labored because of his injuries. It felt like he was moving in slow motion as he frantically tried to get to Don and watched in horror as Schiller hauled his leg back and viciously kicked his brother's side.

"Stop!" Charlie tried to shout but his efforts to move had left him breathless and only a raspy sound left his lips.

Ludwig had lost complete control wanting nothing more than to bring pain to the man that had just hurt him.

Don grunted as he received another kick to his ribs and suddenly felt a white hot pain in his chest; realizing that the man had either cracked or broken one of his ribs he tried to twist his body out of Schiller's way but with his arms painfully pressed beneath the back of the chair he was trapped.

His left eye was swelling shut from Ludwig's first punch and although he tried frantically to kick the man again, Schiller managed to stay just out of reach. Another kick to his ribs and the sharp pain that followed sent him into darkness. Unconscious, Don's head lolled limply to the side.

Suddenly the room became quiet as Ludwig stood over the agents still form. The spot where Don had kicked him still hurt and he was breathing heavily from his exertions but he wasn't finished yet. Feeling the need to inflict more pain on the agent he hauled his foot back with the intention of kicking him in the head.

Charlie had finally made it to the desk and had to stop to catch his breath but his respite only lasted for a second because as soon as Schiller brought his leg back to kick Don again, he lunged forward at a speed that he didn't think he was capable of. The resulting adrenaline rush gave him enough strength to ram into the surprised man and knock him to the floor but he couldn't stop his forward momentum and landed on top of Schiller.

Unfortunately, while Charlie was fighting waves of pain and trying to catch his breath, Schiller recovered and with an angry yell pushed him away. He landed hard, on his back, sparking renewed pain from his injuries. Charlie writhed on the floor in excruciating agony that seemed to go on forever as wave after wave of pain shook his body until the engulfing darkness took him and he spiraled into merciful oblivion.

Shriller sat up slowly, his face still contorted with anger, and glared angrily at the two unconscious men. "This was their fault," he hissed to his other personality, "they started it!"

Suddenly, his eyes closed and he doubled over, squeezing his head between his hands, as if he were trying to push something out. "No! I don't want to go…you can't make me! I belong here…not you!" But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't prevent the shift from happening.

Ludwig opened his eyes and stared in dismay at the scene before him. _"Oh, God, what have I done?"_ He had no memory of the violent acts, he never did, but he knew in his heart that he had done them.

"I can't stand it anymore...…please go away!" Ludwig whined desperately to his violent persona. He rocked back and forth on his heels, sobbing louder and louder, until finally he screamed like some wounded animal….and then he fell silent, curling up in a ball on the floor, panting more than breathing.

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By_

_1st Endeavor_

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1_

_Spoilers: Hangman_

_A/N: As always, I appreciate your reviews._

_Chapter 23:_

"_Come here my son." _

_The woman said tenderly; her voice choked with emotion. She looked older than her forty-five years; her face worn and wrinkled from years of hard work and worry. Her husband Emil was a farmer and times had been hard for them. A two year drought had all but destroyed their crops, and their livestock had dwindled to a handful of chickens, a cow that produced very little milk and an old donkey. Their four children were growing thinner before her eyes and she was terrified that she would not be able to feed them. That fear had brought them to this juncture in their lives….this pivotal moment that was literally breaking her heart._

_Her youngest son had been proclaimed a child prodigy in mathematics and while this should have been a time of happiness for them she had discovered that it held a dark side as well. The intellectual elite had taken an interest in him. They could give him a better life, they said, but her son would have to leave with them and go far, far away to live in another country. Her little boy would never want for food or a warm place to sleep but only at their institute could the scientists insure that his gift would be nurtured so that he could reach his full potential. _

_Compared to that what did she have to offer? As tears glistened in her eyes she glanced around the room, noting her threadbare furniture, worn out rugs, the scraped up floorboards of the old farmhouse; even the clothes on their backs were rags compared to the fine clothes and shoes that the two strangers were wearing . She couldn't even give him a chance to have a formal education; no…she shook her head sadly….all she had to offer was a mother's love and the boy's father didn't think much of that._

_Under hooded eyelids she glanced at her husband, Emil, standing stiff-backed and looking stern beside the visitors. "This is best thing that we can do for the boy Marta. We will never be able to give him what he needs." He reiterated firmly after catching her eye._

"_How can they love him like I do?" she asked tremulously, her lips quivering. "He is so young….he still needs his mother."_

"_Love," her husband replied harshly, "will not help him survive in this world, only his mind can do that. Stop being so selfish woman; not only will this help him but we will be able to get the farm going again and feed our other three children."_

_She nodded reluctantly and held out her trembling hands toward her youngest. "Ludwig, come here."_

_The little boy approached hesitantly, not out of fear of his mother but fear of the strange man and woman standing near the door with his father. _

"_Yes, mama."He uttered the words in a barely audible voice; ducking his head sheepishly as he scurried to her side, eager to reach the safety of her arms. _

_She pulled him close and hugged him fiercely, as if she would never let him go, whispering how much she loved him. He pulled his head back and searched her face, surprised to see tears flowing down her cheeks; this frightened him even more._

"_Mama?" The child whispered anxiously. "What is the matter?"_

"_Marta." Emil said impatiently. "If you cannot do this, I will."_

_The woman met his eyes briefly and nodded, then lowered her gaze to the little boy in her arms. She caressed her child's face lovingly, silently memorizing the curve of his cheeks, the small upturned nose and his soft hazel eyes. She took a steadying breath and lightly brushed the hair out of his eyes before finally speaking. _

"_Ludwig, do you remember how much you like to do the numbers?" Marta waited until he eagerly shook his head. "Well, these people," she said softly, "can help you learn a lot more of the numbers but …..but," she coughed to clear her throat, "but you will have to go and live with them."_

_Ludwig's small eyes widened with terror. "Noooo! I don't wanna go Mama." The boy cried, lurching forward to wrap his arms around her neck. "Don't make me go Mama. Please don't make me go!"_

_Marta clutched him to her breast, sobs racking her thin frame, and cooed softly in his ear. . "My baby…my baby." _

_The woman from the institute raked her cold dark eyes over mother and child then turned to face the boy's father. "It has been our experience that something like this is best done quickly." _

_Emil nodded curtly then strode across the room to retrieve the child but the boy struggled against him and tightened his hold on his mother._

"_Noooo." The child screamed desperately when his father pulled him loose. He stretched out his arms toward his mother and cried hysterically. "Mama, I promise…I'll be good. I won't do the numbers anymore….I promise!"_

"_Ludwig!" Emil shouted angrily. "You will stop this immediately. Do you understand?"_

_At the angry tone of his father's voice, the little boy ceased his struggles and turned a tear stained face upward; lips trembling as he pleaded. "But…but Papa….I…don't…want...to…go."_

_Emil glowered at his son angered and embarrassed by his behavior. "Ludwig you will stop this nonsense. We cannot care for you anymore. You must go with these people." He roughly turned the boy around and shoved him across the room toward the woman. _

"_Take him." Ludwig's father ordered in a clipped voice._

"_The boy will be fine." The man from the institute assured them as he pulled a thick envelope from his pocket and handed it to the farmer. "A little discipline and he will fit right in with the other students."_

_Emil snatched the envelope and quickly opened it; counting the money inside. Satisfied he gave the man a nod and stepped aside. _

"_Papa?" The little boy asked tearfully as he watched his father count the bills; was he being sold?_

"_It is time to leave." The woman announced coldly, gripping the boys hand tightly as she turned for the door, pulling the reluctant child behind her._

"_Someday you will understand." Emil called out as they reached the door. "One day you will become a great man Ludwig, and will thank us for giving you this opportunity."_

_Tearfully, Ludwig looked over his shoulder and what he saw would remain with him for the rest of his life. Papa's cold glare as he stood there clutching the thick envelope in his hand; his two sisters, ten year old Anca and thirteen year old Camelia had joined his mother on the couch; tears running down their cheeks as Marta sobbed uncontrollably, her arms wrapped around them. Daniel, his fifteen year old brother stood behind the couch watching silently as they led him away. The little boy idolized his older brother but when he pleaded for his help, Daniel did nothing but look away. The little boy's small head bowed in despair as he was pulled through the doorway, never to see his family again. _

Ludwig whimpered then jerked awake; blinking his eyes rapidly as he uncurled his long frame and sat up. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose; it had been a long time since he had thought of his family, much less dreamed of them

"_But it wasn't really a_ _dream….was it_?" He thought to himself bitterly. It was a very specific memory and one that he thought had been purged from his mind years ago. With the back of his hand he wiped away the tears, surprised that after so many years the memory could still make him cry. The tears though were only for his mother; his heart had hardened against the others, they had willingly let him go. Ludwig had looked for her before he left for Princeton but had discovered that she had died in childbirth a year after he had been taken away. His father had remarried only six months after his mother's death and had lost the farm despite the money he had received from the institute; Daniel, Anca and Camelia had all married and moved away. After that, he had left for Princeton and never looked back. Years later when he had gained notoriety in the academic world, his father had tried to contact him, asking for monetary assistance but Ludwig had turned his back on the man; as far as he was concerned Emil had died the day that he had been forced to leave his family.

The memory faded and his thoughts turned back to the present. "Good lord. What has happened here?" He mumbled out loud; suddenly spotting Charlie's body lying on the floor. Ludwig crawled over to his side and exhaled a shaky sigh of relief at the steady rise and fall of his chest.

He heard a cough followed by a low moan and looked behind him. Ludwig's eyebrows rose in surprise to find the agent's chair on the floor…and the man still attached to it.

"Oh dear." He muttered anxiously; scrambling to his feet. Deciding that the agent was in more need of attention he hurried to Don's side. Ludwig grasped the back of the chair and struggled to raise it up; the man was heavier than he looked but nevertheless, after several minutes he managed to get the chair upright and with a loud thump settled it firmly back on the floor.

Breathless, he leaned on the back of the chair and stared at the back of the bowed head of the agent. "_What had he done_?" Ludwig wished that he could remember everything that had happened but he only saw bits and pieces of the events in his mind and they didn't make any sense to him. He moved around to the front of the chair and checked the man's injuries. A dark black and blue bruise was growing beneath Don's left eye and there was considerable swelling around the eye itself but other than that he couldn't see any other injuries. Was he unconscious from that or was there something else going on? Before he could check further he caught movement in his peripheral vision and looked up as Charlie began to stir.

**0000000000000000**

Larry snorted in his sleep and shifted his position on the couch to get more comfortable. As he stretched out on the sofa, the yearbook slipped from his grasp. The tips of his fingers still rested between its pages but the edge of the book was now hanging precariously over the side of the couch.

**000000000000000000**

Charlie groaned and rolled over on his side, bound hands clutched tightly to his chest. Any kind of pressure against the welts on his body would bring renewed agony; his flesh would tingle and then the throbbing pain would begin again.

As consciousness slowly returned he felt himself being pulled to a standing position; too weak to resist he surrendered to the manipulating hands that were pulling him along. He stumbled along on legs so wobbly that he would have fallen but for the arms that were supporting him. Charlie's eyes fluttered open but his office swirled dizzily around him so he squeezed them shut while he was moving. The motion suddenly stopped and he opened his eyes again as he was being lowered to the chair.

Charlie couldn't suppress an agonizing cry when his body came in contact with the chair; the pain flared anew from each wound as he settled into the seat. Suddenly, he felt like he was going to blackout again as every nerve in his body seemed to react to the contact but he fought the darkness and maintained a tenuous hold onto consciousness, unwilling to be completely at Ludwig's mercy. He was shivering so much from the excruciating pain that he couldn't fight Schiller when he freed his hands and rebound them behind the chair. From the tops of his shoulders to the back of his upper thighs, his inflamed flesh was swollen and tender to the touch. He squeezed his eyes shut again, determined to ride the waves of pain until they subsided.

Breathing heavily from his exertions Ludwig leaned on the desk and wiped his brow with a trembling hand wincing as a dull pain ran through his abdomen. He staggered around to the desk chair and sat down; leaning his head back against the chair he closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. After a while he opened his eyes and studied the two men across from him. His brows drew together in puzzlement. They had gotten to him somehow, found a way to get through his defenses and make him question his purpose. "_How? What is different this time?"_ He asked himself and then he realized that the answer was right in front of him; Don Eppes. The man had reminded him of his older brother, Daniel and that was why he had dreamed about his lost family.

Schiller shook his head to clear it. _Enough of this nonsense, he thought. I have work to do._ Ludwig opened another notebook but couldn't find his pen so he systematically began to open the desk drawers looking for a pen that he could use. He snagged one and was about to close the drawer when his yes fell upon the letters written by Charlie's predecessors to his office. Schiller recognized the names of course; Hightower, Knox, Newberry and Beiderman had all been giants in the academic world. Fascinated, he opened the letter written by Hightower in 1922 then read the others in turn; he was awed by this intimate glimpse into the minds of his heroes. Charlie's letter was last, written for the professor that would follow him. Furtively, Ludwig glanced at the young man but his eyes were still closed, and unable to restrain himself he opened it up to see what message the young man was leaving behind for the next professor that would occupy this office.

"_**It's September, and I'm looking at four letters written by four of the greatest minds of the 20**__**th**__** century. Hightower, Knox, Newberry and Biederman. **_

_**Each one had this office before me and each one wrote a letter to the professor who would come after.**_

_**Now it's my turn.**_

_**I'm writing a letter to the faceless, nameless Professor who will take this office after me.**_

_**Who are you? What Questions are you wrestling with? Where are you looking for your answers?**_

_**Do you take this office at the end of a long and distinguished career? Or are you on the ascent…your greatest work waiting for you amid an infinity of possibilities?**_

_**Do you hover above the chaos, looking for your answers in patterns and trends, or do you need to be at ground level, walking through the problem?**_

_**My mother had this photo of the Parthenon from a trip she'd taken with my father before I was born and one day I scribbled all over it with a crayon. She was understandably upset until my dad pointed out that I had covered it with rectangles within rectangles retracing the Greeks use of the golden ratio.**_

_**Does that speak to the mathematicians need to understand beauty or to the child's need to tear it apart?**_

_**John von Neumann once said that in mathematics you don't understand things you just get used to them. I wish I could have debated that point with him, because it seems to me that, in mathematics, we find the power to refuse fate. In understanding the way things are, we give ourselves the means to change them.**_

"You have...no right...to...to...read that." Charlie said, his voice choked with emotion, "It was… not meant…. for you." Wincing, he squirmed around in the chair trying to ease the pressure on his injuries.

Ludwig's face reddened, embarrassed at being caught, but he didn't put the letter away.

"Yes, I know." He said softly, meeting the pain filled eyes of the young professor. "I do not apologize for reading it. I find it most …enlightening." Ludwig ignored his protest and eagerly sought the place where he had left off. He read the entire letter but when he was finished he re-read the last part of Charlie's letter again.

_**Hightower, Knox, Newberry, Beiderman. Each of their signatures is a self-swallowing set, a name that shorthand's a body of thought, a life's work.**_

_**The question isn't: Who are you?**_

_**The question is: Who did I turn out to be?**_

_**Who am I to you?**_

_**Are faded chalk marks and scratches on the floor the only evidence that I was here, or did**_

_**some scribbled note, some fragment of a proof invert your perception of the world…even confirm it, cementing what you knew in your heart to be true, with the balance of left column to right?**_

_**What footprints have I left behind? Do they endure, or has the ocean of discovery washed them away already?**_

_**How many lives have I touched?**_

_**Have I touched you?**_

_**Charlie Eppes**_

Schiller found Charlie's letter no less compelling than the others but it was his last few sentences that seemed to connect to him personally and to the agenda that he had been following. Thoughtfully he folded the letter and slid it back inside the envelope then picked up the yellowed pages of the letter that Hightower had written.

"That was quite a tradition that Professor Hightower started." He commented, waving the pages at Charlie before folding them and putting them back in the envelope. Ludwig gazed solemnly at the young man before adding: "This is quite an achievement for you Professor Eppes, to take over this office at such a young age, especially considering the pedigree of those that came before you."

"Shouldn't that be… worth a hundred points….in the success column?" Don spoke up suddenly, surprising both of them. His left eye was nearly swollen shut but he found that if he closed it all the way he could see better out of his right eye. He took shallow breaths to help ease the pain in his chest and decided that Schiller had cracked one of his ribs instead of breaking it; he'd had broken ribs before and the pain had been a lot more severe.

Charlie's head swiveled around; his brows drawn together in concern. "Don, are you ok? Your eye….it's …"

"I've had black eyes before Charlie. Don't worry about it." He replied, turning back to face Schiller before his brother could see the flash of pain in his eyes; he would let Charlie know about his cracked rib later but right now he didn't want Ludwig to know that he had more injuries than the black eye.

"What about it Schiller?" Don asked, determined to help Charlie any way that he could. "Are you going to give him the points?"

"I shall consider your suggestion Agent Eppes." Ludwig said conversationally as he pulled out his pocket watch and clicked it open. He pushed his chair back and rose to his feet; pausing just long enough to return the letters to the drawer where he had found them. "Time is getting away from us and we still have a lot to review." He advised them fully enveloping the Professor persona as he strode quickly to one of the white boards.

"Charlie how badly did he hurt you?" Don asked anxiously as soon as Schiller turned his back toward them. "I thought he had killed you."

Charlie shook his head slightly and narrowed his eyes as he studied his brother. He shifted around in his chair and found that the intensity of the pain lessened if most o f his weight rested on the left side of his hip. It wasn't the most comfortable position that he had even been in but if it helped dull the pain he could endure the discomfort.

"It hurts …like hell…but I'm okay." His eyes flickered to the side and then back again. "Your eye is all…black and blue….and swollen. Can you see anything out of it?"

Don sat up straighter before he answered; it didn't hurt as much that way. "My vision is a little fuzzy but I can see okay out of my other one."

"What else is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. It's just my eye."

Charlie rolled his eyes and despite the pain whispered sarcastically. "Sooo…. your face is …pale and sweaty because… you feel fine?"

"Alright." Don muttered, glaring at him with his good eye. "I think he might have cracked one of my ribs, but I don't want him to know about it."

"I'm so sorry Don." His brother said, lowering his voice."I didn't intend for you to get hurt."

"It wasn't your fault Charlie." Don said wincing as a sharp pain rose up his side. "I was trying to distract him so you could get the key but I guess I lost my temper."

Charlie's eyes widened and he stared at his brother in disbelief. "Why did you… do that? I had ….everything under control."

Don's eyes reflected his brother's look of amazement. "Control? How can you say that Charlie?"" He spoke louder than he had intended and quickly glanced at Schiller but the man was writing and wasn't paying them any attention. He lowered his voice but whispered emphatically." Charlie he was going to kill you!"

"No Don," Charlie replied thickly, "Ludwig was going …to kill you. I saw it in his eyes." He spared a look at Schiller before meeting his brother's gaze; his expressive brown eyes clouded with pain. "If I hadn't stopped him Don…I…ah...I don't know what would have happened. As for me, he's got an agenda…remember? That man does intend to kill me… but not until dawn."

"I'm going to stop him Charlie." Don replied, a look of desperation crossing his features. "I'll think of something."

"I know that …you will." Charlie agreed, but his voice held little confidence as his eyes darted toward the clock.

"Damn!" Don swore, following Charlie's gaze; two-thirty. Schiller was right; time was getting away from them. His eyes flickered back to his brother as the theme song for "MASH" heralded the end to another half hour show.

"Please tell me that it was worth it. You did find it, didn't you?" Don asked hopefully, barely breathing while he waited for his brother to answer.

Charlie glanced sideways to make certain that Schiller was still occupied and then faced his brother. He grinned, although his grin was strained. "Yeah, it's in my pocket."

000000000000000000

With every deep breath that Larry took the book slipped further and further over the edge until it landed with a loud bang on the floor.

Startled out of sleep, Larry shot up, blinking owlishly as he tried to get his bearings. He rubbed his face tiredly and moved into a sitting position; one foot coming to rest on a shoe and the other one settling on something hard. Puzzled he glanced down at the floor and was dismayed to find his foot resting on Charlie's yearbook. The book had landed open, face down with some of the pages ruffled and out of place.

"Oh my." He muttered and scooped the book up. As he tried to straighten out the crumpled pages his eyes drifted to one of the photographs.

It was a picture of Charlie's freshman Mathematics class, taken at the beginning of the semester before he had been removed from Dr. Schiller's class but what had really caught Larry's eye were the names of the students that were grouped together in the first row. He held the book closer to the light, and reading from left to right, Larry ran his finger over the names of the students that were standing in the front row of the photograph.

"Oh dear, oh dear." He mumbled, becoming more and more distraught as he read the names of the students out loud. "Henri Yang, Sylvia Mendoza, Jefferson Crandall, James Regan, Alicia Brogan, Sean Leavens, Thomas Hill, Charles Edward Eppes and Professor Ludwig Schiller."

Larry clapped his hands to his face, eyes widening in horror as the implications of what he was seeing hit home. He ran a trembling finger across the names again to be certain that he hadn't made a mistake. "It can't be…it just can't be….can it?" Larry mumbled aloud as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit the first speed dial button.

He jumped to his feet clutching the yearbook tightly against his chest as he waited for Charlie to answer the phone. When that failed he anxiously paced around the room while he waited for Don to answer his call. Becoming more and more distressed, the physicist slipped on his shoes while he waited for his third call to connect.

Larry wandered over to the windows and tried to calm himself down by looking at the stars while the first ring went unanswered. "Come on…come on…pick up!" He whispered urgently as the second ring ended."_Where is everybody?"_ Larry thought desperately. His heart was pounding so hard that he almost didn't notice when the third ring was interrupted but he exhaled a dramatic sigh of relief at the sound of the familiar voice.

"David Sinclair."

TBC

A/N: Charlie's letter courtesy of Numb3rs Episode : "Hangman"


	24. Chapter 24

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_by_

_By 1__st__ Endeavor_

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1_

_A/N: I appreciate your reviews. Thank you._

_Chapter 24:_

For the second time that night Elton John's "Rocket Man" blared forth from beneath the sofa. Three heads whipped around in the direction of the couch, two of them listening with bated breath, desperately hoping that it might somehow lead to a rescue; the third narrowed his eyes suspiciously and took a step closer to the sound.

"Why is that infernal man calling again?" Ludwig growled; eyes darting angrily toward Charlie.

"I…I don't know." Charlie replied with a shrug then emitted a groan of regret; any sudden movement on his part could spark another wave of painful tremors.

Schiller started for him but stumbled to a halt when Don's phone suddenly began to ring; he immediately did an about face and hurried over to the coffee table. Ludwig stared at the phone like it was a snake coiled and ready to strike; waiting until it stopped ringing before picking it up and carrying it back to its owner. He pressed a key then his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Why would Fleinhardt call you?" He demanded furiously; waving the phone under the agent's nose.

"Ah…Larry is a family friend. If he couldn't get hold of Charlie then it's only natural that he would try and contact me." Don replied, trying to sound convincing and at the same time keep the excitement out of his voice. The truth was that if Larry was calling him at this hour he had discovered something urgent involving the case or there was some type of emergency and he was fervently praying for the former.

"Do you take me for an idiot Agent Eppes?" Schiller snarled. "It's three o'clock in the morning….what possible reason could that man have to call you at this hour?"

"_Insane, yes… idiot, no."_ Don thought darkly as he tried to come up with a plausible reason for Larry to call him; his brother came to his rescue.

"He's…ah," Charlie cleared his throat, "he's staying with me, so….so maybe something happened to Dad and he needed to get in touch with us."

"That would make sense," Don hastily agreed, "If something was wrong with Dad he would contact both of us."

Ludwig's eyes darted back and forth between them, searching for a sign of deception; finally he turned around and tossed the phone on the desk.

"Humph!" Schiller snorted coldly, turning on his heel. "If that is the case then your father will have to get along without either of you."

Two pair of dark eyes tracked Schiller as he strode back to the whiteboards. Don and Charlie watched him closely as he picked up one of the markers and started to write again; when they were certain that the man was preoccupied the brother's began to speak softly.

Charlie frowned. "You don't… think Dad's really in trouble….do you?"

Don shook his head lightly. "No Charlie, I don't." He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "I think Larry figured it out and right now he's contacting David."

"I hope you're right." His brother answered in a voice laced with pain and worry. "It would… be nice if…. something went our way… for a change."

"I'll say." Don huffed in agreement.

"I'm almost ready for our next review Professor." Schiller announced over his shoulder. "I just need another minute or two."

"Yeah….I'm really…looking forward...to that." Charlie muttered bitterly in a barely audible voice. He met his brother's gaze and then ducked his head; he knew what was coming and dreaded it with all of his being. Schiller's pattern was easy enough to follow. First, the man would posture around pretending to evaluate his work then secondly, he would come up with a fabricated reason to list it under the failures category which inevitably gave Ludwig an excuse to _discipline_ him with the cane. Charlie couldn't suppress a shudder as he thought about it. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to get his emotions in check; he had to get his brother to understand something before he was taken up front again.

"Don, you have to… promise me… something."Charlie said softly, tilting his head to the side; his expressive brown eyes pleading in earnest. "Promise …..that no matter what Schiller does to me… you will keep quiet."

"We've been through this before." Don retorted angrily, barely keeping is voice low enough so that Schiller couldn't hear him. He got his temper in check and dropped is voice even lower. "Charlie you can't really expect me to just sit here and keep my mouth shut while that man is beating the_ crap_ out of you!" He twisted around to face his brother better but realized too late that he shouldn't have moved; Don couldn't suppress a moan as a sharp pain shot across his chest and he had to remain perfectly still until the flare died away.

"Please…..listen to me!" Charlie hissed desperately, noticing the sudden pain lines flit across his brother's face. "Don, you've already got…. a cracked rib and if he goes after you again it'll be worse ….and this time I may not be able to stop him!" He glanced sideways to make certain that Schiller hadn't moved any closer to them then turned back to face his brother. "I'll figure out some way to get this key to you but it won't do any good if you get hurt again. Look ….the only chance we have …is for you to make it to …your gun and that…won't happen if he hits you again."

Frowning, Don glanced at Schiller before responding to his brother; he knew Charlie was right but it was just so hard to sit there and not be able to prevent it from happening. The agent had never felt so helpless in his life; he had always protected his brother and now he was being forced to sit and watch as Ludwig beat him.

Don finally met his brother's gaze; brown eyes filled with anguish. "Charlie...I…its hard...for me…to watch."

"I know," Charlie whispered huskily, "but remember…he's following an agenda….and won't kill…me until five. Please…promise me that you'll do this."

Don opened his mouth to answer but closed it quickly; his focus suddenly shifting to Schiller as the man approached them. He glanced fearfully at his brother when Ludwig came to a stop behind Charlie's chair.

"_God…how he hated this man!" _Don clenched his fists; he couldn't remember ever feeling this much rage for a person and he knew in his heart that if ever he got his hands on that despicable _cane_ he would use it on him. He squeezed his good eye shut. _"Please…just give me the chance to let Schiller feel the kind of pain that he is inflicting on Charlie."_

"Let's go Professor. I'm ready to continue now." Ludwig commanded in an arrogant tone.

Don opened his eyes at Schiller's words and watched with dread as his brother's hands dropped to his side; he knew the routine and watched with trepidation as his brother struggled to his feet.

Charlie spared him a brief glance; eyes pleading with him to keep silent. Schiller jerked his hands forward, forcing a gasp of pain from him as he re-tied them. Charlie hobbled forward, mentally trying to prepare himself for Schiller's next round of "_reviews."_

Don tasted bile at the sight of his brother's back; blood soaked his shirt from the top of his shoulders to his waist.

"Oh….buddy!" He whispered in anguish and closed his eyes in anticipation of what was coming.

_**0000000000000000**_

"Hey, hold the elevator." Colby yelled as he hurriedly gathered his things from the security conveyor belt; he quickly holstered his gun and attached it to his belt then made a dash for the elevators with both hands full of his keys, cell phone and badge. "Thanks," he said breathlessly as he clamored on board with Nikki and Liz.

Liz pushed a stray hair behind her ear and tilted her head wearily against the wall. "What's going on Colby? Why did David call us back at this hour?"

Colby looked up in surprise just as he finished stuffing his things back into his jeans pockets."Don't look at me…I probably got the same message that you did."

"Oh, come on Idaho!" Nikki huffed irritably with a toss of her head. "You don't really expect us to believe that do you?"

"Honest," he said with a shrug; eyebrows shooting up innocently, "all David said was that Larry had called him and said we needed to get down here asap…..said we had to hurry if we wanted to save the next victim."

The girls exchanged surprised looks. "Larry figured out the pattern?" Liz asked, coming full awake.

"That's what I'm guessing."

"Did he say what it was?" Nikki asked excitedly as the elevator door opened on their floor.

"Nope." Colby said with a shrug, leading the way to the conference room.

"Talk about déjà vu," Liz snorted sarcastically as they entered the room. "Didn't we just leave here a few minutes ago?"

"You got that right girlfriend," Nikki agreed. "What's it been…like… four hours?"

"Make that more like two," David said tiredly from the doorway. "At least it is for me. Coffee's on."

They all looked toward the door as David walked in carrying a steaming cup of the hot brew.

The African-American sighed heavily as he set his cup on the table and slid into his chair. David had never even made it to bed; he'd taken a quick shower and changed to a sweat shirt and jogging pants then ended up on his couch. He had fallen to sleep watching a sports game but after Larry's call had switched the jogging pants for jeans and hurried out the door.

"Was it really necessary to come in so early?" Nikki asked crossly.

David blew across the rim of his cup and took a sip of coffee before looking up to answer her question. "According to Larry it is".

"Where is Larry?" Colby asked, searching around through the glass windows of the office for him.

"On his way." David said as he lifted the lid of his laptop and pressed the power button. "Might as well get everything ready."

They began to systematically power up the equipment; soon everything was up and running, the pictures and names of the victims were once again plastered on the large plasma screen at the back of the room.

"Guess I'll get a cup of coffee." Colby muttered, taking off his jacket and slinging it over his chair.

Liz shrugged out of her own jacket. "Yeah that sounds like a pretty good idea."

"It looks like we're in for another long night in the exciting world of the FBI." Colby remarked sarcastically as headed for the door.

"I hear that!" Nikki snorted, as she followed behind him.

Ten minutes later each agent was sitting at the conference table, a fresh cup of coffee in hand while they impatiently waited for Professor Fleinhardt to make his appearance. David glanced at the elevators for the third time before turning back to his computer.

"Are you going to call Don?" Colby asked, glancing toward the elevator himself.

Sinclair blew at the steaming liquid in his cup before responding. "Not until I know for sure what Larry has found."

"Yeah, it wouldn't be smart to wake up the boss at this time of night if Larry's info doesn't pan out." Nikki smirked as she clicked a few keys on her laptop.

Suddenly, four heads whipped around at the ding of the elevator bell and followed Larry's desperate flight across the office to the conference room. Wide-eyed and clutching a book in his hands he rushed breathlessly into the room.

"It's all here," Larry cried emphatically, speaking rapidly. "The victims and the pattern that the murderer is following," he inclined his head momentarily as a thought suddenly occurred to him then rushed on with his explanation, "which is why Charles couldn't explain the killer's erratic movement across the country."

"Slow down dude." Colby said with a wave of his hand.

Larry put a hand to his temple, staring blankly at Colby before turning to David. "We have to get to CalSci….Charlie is in danger!"

David exchanged surprised looks with his agents before standing up. "What? Look Larry you're not making any sense. Why is Charlie in danger?"

"Because of this!" Larry said, tapping the book with his finger.

"Is that a year book?" Liz asked, squinting at the book.

"A Princeton University year book to be more precise." The professor said as he opened the book and scanned the page.

"Larry…?" David began but was silenced as the professor raised a finger to halt his questions.

"I'll show you." He positioned the new photograph beneath the pictures of the victims on the large plasma screen, then and only then did he begin to talk.

"The connection wasn't the year that our victim's graduated from Princeton….it was the year they started!" Larry exclaimed excitedly; his hands waving in all directions. '"More specifically they were all together in one particular class in their freshman year; Dr. Schiller's Calculus class."

Using a stylus pen as he spoke, he drew a line under the first row of students shown in the picture then he circled the head of the first student in line and drew a connecting line between him and the first victim.

"Dr. Henry Yang, then and now." Silence greeted him as the agents watched him connect four more of the victims until the first row had only three more students and the professor unmarked.

"That's amazing Larry." David said, impressed at his friend's discovery but he did a double take when his eyes drifted to the end of the row and settled on one of the photographs

"Hey, that's Charlie!" Liz exclaimed, spotting the picture at the same time as Sinclair.

The agents exchanged a look of shock as they realized that their friend was a potential victim of the killer.

"That's what I've been saying." Fleinhardt said excitedly. "We have to get to CalSci!"

"Wait a minute Larry," David said calmly, nodding at the picture. "If the killer is following this pattern then he will strike two other targets before he goes after Charlie."

Larry waved his hands in frustration. "Yes but…but Charlie didn't answer his phone…or Don for that matter."

Nikki tilted her head to the side. "That's not really unusual though. He often turns off his phone when he is working at night so that he won't be disturbed."

"Liz put me in touch with campus security." David ordered then turned to Larry. "You didn't get any answer when you called Don?"

Larry shook his head. "No, after the third ring I called you."

"Probably sleeping." Nikki commented, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Campus security is on line 2." Liz said putting the call on hold.

David nodded. "Go ahead and put it on speaker." He moved closer to the phone and waited for her nod. "This is Special Agent David Sinclair with the FBI."

"David!" A voice exclaimed over the phone. "Nice to hear from you. This is Grady…Grady Benson."

David lips spread in a smile. "Grady Benson….why you old dog. What're you doing at CalSci?"

"Had to do something after I retired." He chuckled. "It's like "old home" week here tonight. How can I help the FBI?"

"Old _home week_?" David asked, puzzled by the man's comment.

"Yeah," Grady laughed, "first Don and now you."

David's brow shot up in surprise. "Don is there?"

"Well, not here exactly. He's in his brother's office."

"Really?" David asked curiously. "What time did he get there?"

"Oh…I'd say about 9:30. He arrived with a pizza and I don't mind telling you that it really smelled good too."

David shared a relieved look with the other agents and Larry. "A pizza huh?"

"Yeah. Are you trying to get in touch with him?"

"Well, actually, no. I was wondering if Professor Eppes was in his office. He's not answering his phone."

"You want me to go over there?"

The agent rubbed the top of his head tiredly. "No, that's okay I can just give Don a call."

"You'll probably have to let it ring a few times."

David sat down on the edge of the table. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, on my last patrol I could see the Professor working at the blackboard but I also heard the TV playing, so I figured that Don had probably fallen asleep on the sofa."

David grinned. "You're probably right. Thanks' for your help Grady."

"Sure, anytime David." There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Are you sure that you don't want me to go over there?"

"Yeah I'm sure. It was good talking to you man, see you around." He motioned for Liz to end the call and caught Larry's eye. "I think we can safely assume that Charlie is okay so why don't we move on to the student standing beside of Alicia Brogan."

A wave of relief washed over Larry as he focused on the next student. "His name is Sean Leavens."

"I've got this one David." Colby called out and started tapping at the keys of his laptop.

"Do you think the killer intends to murder everyone in that picture?" Nikki asked, turning to her partner.

Liz shrugged, studying the picture. "Maybe. Two more rows…twenty more people." She glanced at her partner. "Serial killers tend to keep going until they're caught."

"David," Colby said looking up, "I've got seven Sean Leavens listed nationwide. I'm searching through the data now."

"Good." His partner replied and then turned to Liz. "What was the time frame between the last two murders?"

The agent tapped a few keys before responding. "Approximately eleven days."

"Colby?"

"Three more to go, so far none have graduated from Princeton….wait, here we go." He said excitedly, his eyes eagerly scanning the data. "This must be our guy…..he's…he's…"

"He's what Grainger?' Nikki asked with a toss of her head.

Colby swallowed hard and looked up at his partner. "We're too late, the man's already dead."

"What?" David asked rising to his feet. "When?"

"Wednesday morning, five a.m." Colby said grimly, putting the crime scene photos on the screen with the others.

"Our killer is escalating, that's only two days after the Brogan murder." Liz said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I don't get it," Nikki said, clearly puzzled. "Why didn't Charlie's algorithm pick this guy up too?"

"Do you remember that bad storm that we had on Thursday?" Colby asked, glancing around the room. "Well, according to this, Seattle got hit harder than we did. The Seattle P.D. headquarters took a direct hit and have been off-line for two days." He shook his head. "They're just now getting everything back up again."

"Seattle?" Larry mused thoughtfully, walking toward the screen.

"Yeah," Colby answered, "that's where Leavens lived."

David hurried over to his friend's side. "Does Seattle mean something Larry?"

Ignoring the agent's question, the professor scratched his beard absently as he stared at the screen. _Seattle? There was something about Seattle._ It was just at the edge of his mind…..just out of reach of his memory and then his eyes drifted to the picture of Professor Ludwig Schiller. Larry gasped and clasped both hands to his face; he knew who the killer was.

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

By the Dawn's Early Light

By

1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for your reviews.

Chapter 25:

"Are you okay Larry?" David asked, slightly alarmed at his friend's behavior.

Becoming more agitated by the minute, Larry began to pace back and forth in front of the plasma screen, both hands on top of his head as he rattled off events and probabilities in a barely audible voice, several octaves higher than normal.

Finally, having run out of patience, Colby cornered the man and demanded that he stop speaking in cosmology metaphors.

Larry glanced nervously from agent to agent before blurting out. "I'm afraid that I must agree with Einstein on this one, there are no accidents."

"Ah….you lost me on that one Larry." David said scratching the back of his head.

"Yeah Larry." Colby said. "What exactly does that mean?"

Larry waved his hand in the air and walked to the screen. "Did you know that Einstein said that coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous?"

"Come again?" Nikki said, exchanging a puzzled glance with Liz.

"I know who the killer is." Fleinhardt exclaimed excitedly and pointed at Ludwig's picture. "This man is not a potential victim…he is our killer!" A notable silence followed his announcement and he turned quickly; eyes searching the stunned faces of the agents.

"Larry we haven't been able to identify a suspect because we don't have any evidence that points to one so how can you suddenly jump to the conclusion that this man is our killer?" David argued, nodding at the picture.

"Because with the discovery of this picture certain recent events that I am aware of, but you are not, have fallen in perfect alignment and have shown me that he is responsible for these heinous acts. Its like, "the astrophysicist glanced upward, as if he could see the sky, "watching a planet, its very movements reveal truths."

David rubbed a hand over his head and leaned tiredly against one of the tables. "So you're basically saying that if we tracked," he paused and squinted at the name under the photograph, "Professor Schiller's activities it would lead us to evidence that connects him to the murders."

"Yes…yes." Larry nodded eagerly, stretching his arms toward the screen. "That's what I've been saying…..Einstein was right!"

Nikki rolled her eyes. "I knew we would come back to Einstein again."

Colby smirked and put his hands on his hips. "Let me get this straight Larry, you think a mild mannered professor is doing these brutal murders?"

"Show me where it is written that a professor can't commit a murder?" Larry retorted defensively. "I know that I am right."

"Alright, alright," David sighed, glancing at his watch. "Larry you can explain your theory in a few minutes but it's almost morning and we need to find Thomas Hill and warn him before its too late."

"Thomas is a volcanologist and lives in Castle Rock, WA." Larry said absently, lost in thought. Noting the surprised looks on the agent's faces he quickly added. "He and Charles are good friends."

"Do you have his phone number?"

"No." Larry answered with a slight shake of his head.

Silence fell over the room as Liz tapped at the keyboard. A few minutes later she dialed a phone number but after a few rings ended up leaving a voicemail.

"Now what?" she asked, looking up to meet David's eye.

David shook his head. "I don't like it." He stood up and walked toward the plasma screen; staring at the victims photographs. "Alicia Brogan was murdered on Monday, Sean Leavens on Wednesday and if the killer is now murdering in two-day increments then he will murder Hill at five a.m. this morning."

"That gives us less than two hours to stop him." Colby said grimly.

"Castle Rock is only a three hour drive from Seattle." Nikki announced after doing a quick search online. "Our killer has had plenty of time to get there."

"Yeah." David agreed worriedly. "Nikki, I need to talk with the Castle Rock Sheriffs dept. I'd appreciate it if you would get their phone number."

"Sooner would be better than later." Colby drawled grimly, staring at the photographs.

"You got that right Idaho." Nikki retorted as her fingers flew across the keys.

**0000000000000000**

"Charlie? Bud…buddy." Don's voice broke; ended with a sob.

Charlie was once again sitting in the chair; body slumped and head bowed forward. In fact, from Don's perspective, the only reason that his brother was upright at all was because Schiller had tied his hands behind the chair again.

Keeping silent had undoubtedly been the hardest thing that Don had ever done in his life…and he hated himself for doing it. He swallowed hard; tasting blood. Don had gritted his teeth so hard that he had bitten his cheek several times during the ordeal.

Charlie stirred, coughed and gasped for breath. He raised his head, brow furrowed; blinking his eyes rapidly to clear his vision. Suddenly he shivered uncontrollably then moaned as a wave of pain washed over him."Why…doesn't he…just sh...shoot..… me…now…and get…it ov...ver ...w...with." he muttered bitterly to himself.

"God no! Charlie how can you say that?" Don asked anxiously, horrified to hear his brother speak that way."Please say you don't mean that."

Confused, Charlie glanced sideways and stared at his brother; how could he have forgotten that he was there? The grief-stricken look on Don's face cut through his pain and confusion like a knife bringing him back to full awareness. "No…I….you're right…I didn't mean that." Charlie said with a slight shake of his head; swallowing thickly he added. "Its ….just…it…h...hurts…so much."

"I Know it hurts Charlie, but you can't give up." Don whispered as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Watching Chalie suffer like this was too much for him to bear; he needed to help him but all he could do was let his brother know that he was there for him. "I'm so sorry buddy."

"Not…your fault." The young man replied breathlessly, panting to control the pain. Charlie took a shuddering breath and sat up as straight as he dared. "You …don't…look so good. Did he …hit you this…time?"

"_I don't look so good_? _You should see how you look."_ Don thought incredulously, noting the way his brother was trembling. "I'm okay Charlie." He answered, glowering darkly at the blackboard where the madman was working on the graphs."I don't think that Schiller even realized I was here, he just ignored me, just like you said he would."

"How…is...your eye?" Charlie asked, trying to make his voice sound stronger for his brother's sake.

"It throbs a bit, but I can see…a little out of it." It wasn't a complete lie, Don could see a few blurry images out of his injured eye; he just left out the fact that he couldn't identify what the image was.

"That's good." Charlie murmured, drawing in a deep breath. He let it out slowly, thoughtfully as his eyes drifted to the floor and settled on the photograph of his classmates….specifically the dead ones in the front row. Morning was fast approaching and he had finally accepted the fact that there was a very real probability that it might be his last.

"Hey…ah… Don if I don't make it." He cleared his throat; this was harder than he expected it to be but he but he forged ahead. "I mean…you know…how much…you mean …to me, right? " Charlie didn't wait for an answer. "Could you tell Amita…and Dad that I…?"

"Don't talk like that Charlie." Don cried out, unwilling to let him say good bye. "Don't you give up…you hear me?" His voice softened and dropped to a whisper. "We'll get out of this together. Okay?"

"Sure." Charlie said thickly, dropping his gaze. "Of course… we'll get… out of this." But his voice lacked conviction as his eyes drifted toward the clock.

"What is the Field's medal Charlie?" Don asked in an effort to change the subject; the truth was his own thoughts had been mirroring his brothers all too closely. But changing the subject wasn't the only reason he was asking about the award; Schiller had made a big deal out of it and Charlie's latest caning had been a direct result of his not winning that medal.

"The what? " His brother asked; eyebrows disappearing beneath his curls in surprise. "Why are you… asking about…. that at a time like this?"

"Please. I'd like to know." Don asked softly. He had spent the better part of his life ignoring his brother's accolades and he regretted it now more than ever but this one he should have known about because they had been closer at the time and yet he hadn't heard a word about it; simply put, Don needed to know why.

Charlie glanced sideways, tracking Ludwig's movements before answering. "The Fields' Medal…. is the highest honor a…. mathematician can earn. It's the… equivalent of the Nobel Peace Prize…. only without the …political associations."

"You were nominated a couple of years ago? Right?"

"Yeah."

"If it's so important how come you never told me about it?" Don asked, a hurtful expression crossing his face.

Charlie regarded him sadly. "I tried to tell… you but you were….."

"Working on a case, right?" Don replied bitterly, interrupting him. "I'm sorry; I should have paid more attention to you."

"Hey it's okay." Charlie said seeing how upset his brother was. "I don't expect… you to get excited…. about everything I do." He offered him a slight smile. "Two different worlds, remember?"

Don shook his head sadly. "That's not true Charlie, not anymore. I…." He stopped speaking when Schiller suddenly moved into his line of sight.

**000000000000000**

"Hank? Hank!"

Henry Fisher, Sheriff of Castle Rock, WA, rolled over on his back and grumbled crossly. "What is it Em?"

"Phones ringing." His wife mumbled nudging him in the ribs with her elbow.

"Ow Emmy…not so rough!" Hank complained as he rolled over to answer the phone on the nightstand.

"Listen to you," Emily_ tisked_, "some big tough lawman you are. Letting an old woman beat you up."

"You're stronger than you look _old woman_."He grinned and cast a fond look at her before he picked up the receiver. "Sheriff Fisher."

"Sorry I had to wake you up Hank but I've got a fellow from the FBI in Los Angeles holding on the line for you…..he said it's some kind of emergency."

"It usually is Adie," he sighed heavily as he sat up and tossed the covers to the side, "it usually is. Put him on please."

"Sheriff Fisher I'm Special Agent David Sinclair with the FBI."

"What can I do for the FBI?" He asked, looking around when he felt the weight shift on the mattress. Emily slipped on her housecoat and opened the bedroom door before meeting his eye. He smiled appreciatively as she mouthed the word coffee and disappeared from view then turned his full attention over to the agent.

"Sheriff we have reason to believe that a young man by the name of Thomas Hill is a target of a serial killer and is imminent danger."

The sheriff put the call on speaker and carried on the conversation while he dressed. "Why do you think someone is after Tom?"

"Sheriff, do you know him?"

"Sure do, he's a good friend of mine. Nice young fellow, he's well liked in the community too. I can't imagine why someone would want to hurt him."

"I'm sorry, I don't have time to give you all of the details but you need to find him before five a.m."

Hank glanced at the clock and swore under his breath. "You haven't given me much time."

"We just made the connection. We've tried to get him on the phone but he isn't answering. Do you know where he lives?"

"Yeah, he lives in a cabin about fifteen miles from here. I'll call you back when I get there."

"Wait," David's voice called out urgently. "Make sure you have back- up. We're pretty sure that our killer works alone but he is armed…..and sheriff he kills his victims exactly at five a.m."

"Understood." He responded gruffly, slamming down the receiver. Hank raced down the stairs, taking two at a time. He shrugged into his jacket and attached his holster to his belt just as his wife entered the room.

"Hank?" Emily asked anxiously; forty years of marriage to a police officer had taught her a few things and what she saw reflected in her husband's eyes was one that she had learned to fear. Something bad was going to happen or it already had and Henry was going to confront it "head on" just like he always did. "What's happened?"

"Can't talk now Em. I'll explain later."

She rushed to the door just as he reached for the knob and placed a restraining hand on his arm. "You be careful out there, you here?"

Henry gazed into her worried eyes and leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her lips. "Don't worry Em, I'll be fine. I'll call you later but now I gotta go."

Emily gave him a quiet nod and then stepped aside.

Without another word Henry flung open the door and hurried to his car; clicking on his radio as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Kenny, this is Hank. What is your location? Over."

"I' m patrolling main street Sheriff. What are you doing up so early? Over."

"Meet me at Castle Rock Cottages. Turn off your siren when you get within a mile of the place…got that? Over."

"Roger that. What's up? Over."

"I'll explain when we get there. Meet me at the entrance and use extreme caution. Understood? Over."

"Roger that. I'm on my way. Over and out."

A moment later Hank was pulling out onto the highway, lights flashing and siren blaring.

**0000000000000000**

Ludwig returned to the desk and began sorting through the stacks of papers that he had left there.

Charlie couldn't suppress a shiver as he watched the man sitting at his desk. The way Ludwig's personas switched back and forth so smoothly was truly frightening. At the moment the Professor persona was in control and he seemed really calm. Charlie eyed him thoughtfully; maybe he could use that to their advantage.

"Professor Schiller?" Charlie asked tentatively, clearing his throat.

"Yes Mr. Eppes." Ludwig answered coldly, gazing at him over the rims of his glasses.

"Could….I….ah….please have…a drink …of water?" He asked politely; it wasn't all pretenses, his throat was really dry.

Schiller stared at him for a long moment and then bent down to fish a water bottle from his duffle bag; rising from the chair he strode over to the young man's side. He opened the bottle tilting it so that Charlie could have a drink and then replaced the lid.

"Please sir, I ….know you're busy…. but if you…. untied my ….hands I could hold …the bottle myself." Charlie panted breathlessly as Ludwig turned to leave.

Schiller twisted around and arched an eyebrow as he considered Charlie's request and for the first time seemed to really consider the young man's condition.

"Very well, I see no harm in that." Spinning on his heels Ludwig moved behind Charlie's chair and untied his hands. He jerked them forward, ignoring the sudden gasp of pain his rough handling elicited from the young man and retied his hands together.

"Is this satisfactory Mr. Eppes?" Schiller sneered, placing the bottle of water in Charlie's trembling hands.

"Yes… sir… thank you… sir." Charlie replied meekly, keeping his eyes downcast as Ludwig returned to the desk and sat down. Charlie took a long drink; swallowing slowly before tightening the lid back on the bottle. It took him awhile because his hands shook from the tremors of pain that flared up with his movements but that wasn't going to stop him.

"Professor Schiller sir?"

Annoyed, Ludwig met his eye. "What is it now Mr. Eppes? "

"Please sir, may I… give my brother…some water?" He asked his expressive brown eyes sorrowful and pleading for a little mercy.

Schiller's eyes darted back and forth between them suspiciously and then settled on the shaking bottle in the young man's hands. Finally, dismissing him as a threat, he waved a hand giving him permission. "It's doubtful how much you will actually get in his mouth but go ahead and try."

Don had kept silent during the whole exchange. He knew Charlie had devised some sort of plan otherwise he never would have taken on such a meek attitude with the man. He felt tears form in his eyes as he watched his brother struggle to a standing position; the pain had to be horrendous.

Charlie forced himself to stand on legs so wobbly that they almost buckled beneath him but he managed to brace a leg against Don's chair to keep from falling. He squeezed his eyes shut until the worst of the tremors were over and then took a slow shuddering breath. With his back toward Schiller he held the bottle to his brother's lips, keeping it tilted until Don gave him a sign that he was finished.

"Thanks," Don whispered, looking around him to make sure that Schiller was still at the desk. "Now what?"

Charlie tucked the bottle under his chin and reached into his jeans pocket; it wasn't easy, he had to work both hands into his pocket to retrieve the key but finally he was able to pull it out. He grinned slightly and showed it to his brother then closed his fist tightly as he pulled the water bottle loose with the other. Suddenly, it clattered to the floor and rolled behind Don's chair.

Charlie twisted around fearfully and met Schiller's stony gaze. "I….I'm sorry sir. I'll…pick…it up."

"Hurry it up then and get back in your chair." Ludwig growled impatiently.

"Yes…sir." Charlie anxiously replied as he stepped behind Don's chair and slowly lowered himself to the floor. As he knelt down he squeezed his brother's right hand tightly before carefully placing the key in Don's open palm. Charlie had hoped to unlock one of the cuffs but a sideways glance showed him that Schiller was watching him closely. Instead, he grabbed the bottle and started to rise but swayed slightly and had to grab his brother's hand for support. Don's left hand held his firmly, gripping it tightly until he was able to rise to his feet.

Charlie leaned against Don's chair, panting heavily until he got his feet under him and then made his way slowly to his own chair. He didn't look at Don but kept his eyes straight ahead and although Ludwig was watching him closely the man didn't seem to notice the upward curve of his lips as he took another sip of water; Don's touch had given him strength and the fact that his brother now had the key gave him hope.

Don gripped the key tightly, barely daring to breathe for fear of dropping it; his brother had suffered greatly to get it to him and he wasn't going to let him down. It would be easy to unlock the cuffs, he had done it many times in the past, but he had to wait until the timing was right and Schiller wouldn't get suspicious of his movements.

Charlie's touch had infused him with a renewed energy and he firmed his resolve to get his brother out of harm's way. Don stiffened his jaw; there was no way this lunatic was going to take his brother from him.

The agent didn't look at his brother but stared straight ahead at Schiller, careful to keep his features from revealing his true feelings. The power had shifted but Ludwig didn't know that and it was important that the man didn't find it out; he just had to be patient and bide his time.

Don glanced at the clock and felt his heart flutter. "_We still have time."_ He thought, swallowing hard. "_After all, a lot can happen in fifty-nine minutes and thirty seconds."_

_TBC_


	26. Chapter 26

_By the Dawn's Early Light_

_By_

_1__st__ endeavor_

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for your reviews

Chapter 26:

The tension in the conference room was palpable; waiting for the news from Sheriff Fisher had put everyone in the war room on edge.

Larry sat at one of the tables, elbows propped up, hands clasped together beneath his chin. Thomas and Charles were close friends and he was starting to feel guilty because he hadn't let Charlie know that his friend was in danger. The fact that Charlie was with his brother had eased his mind a little about his friend's immediate safety; he could think of no one more qualified to protect Charlie than his brother….and yet he was fighting an overwhelming urge to race out the door and drive straight to CalSci just to make sure that Charlie was okay. He glanced sideways at Sinclair; how could the man remain so calm?

David walked slowly around the room, pausing every now and then to check his watch or gaze at the crime scene photographs; inevitably his eyes would settle on the youth pictured next to Thomas Hill. Charles Edward Eppes, a thirteen year old prodigy at the time that picture was taken. He looked so out of place in that photograph; a small skinny kid with curly hair and a big nose standing toe to toe with the older students in the class. "_Reminds me of a puppy with big_ _feet", he mused, "because when you saw one of them you knew that it was going to grow up to be a big dog."_ Charlie's nose was no longer his defining feature and he had grown up to become one of the top five minds in the country, surpassing everyone else in the photograph but more importantly to David, Charlie had become a colleague and a close friend. He chuckled inwardly, "_I'd better keep that analogy to myself…..I'm not so sure that_ _Charlie would appreciate that one."_

David glanced at his watch and frowned; it had only been a few minutes since he talked with the sheriff but to him it seemed like hours. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck then stepped over to his desk and picked up his coffee cup. As he took a sip of the lukewarm brew his eyes drifted to his cell phone. Should he call Don now or wait until he heard from the Sheriff? Sinclair was a deliberate man; liked to be sure of the facts before he made a move.

He mulled the case over in his mind. If Larry was right then the killer was preparing to strike Thomas Hill and Charlie was safe for the moment. As each minute passed though his doubts were growing but he hated to disturb Don with only circumstantial evidence. That wasn't the only reason that he hadn't called him; he was pretty sure that his friend had gone over there to work out some issues with Charlie and he hated to interrupt him. If Charlie had been alone he would have called his boss immediately but the fact that Don was there with him had stayed his hand.

David's gaze drifted around the room; Colby was sitting in front of his laptop nervously tapping the table with his pencil while he studied the photograph. Liz and Nikki, heads bent close together, were discussing aspects of the case in low tones and Larry was fidgeting with his beard, looking as if he was going to bolt out of the room at any minute.

"Larry while we're waiting for the Sheriff to call, why don't you tell us your theory on Professor Schiller. Why do you think that he is our killer?" David asked with a nod toward the photograph.

"It's not just a theory David," the physicist exclaimed in frustration, arms waving in front of him, "….why the probability of…of just one of these events being a coincidence would be astronomical. "

Nikki rested her chin in her hand and shook her head with a mumbled "Something tells me we're going back to Einstein again."

"Just give us the facts Larry." David suggested, sharing a slight grin with his partner.

Relieved at finally being given the chance to explain, Larry used a stylus pen and drew a circle around Schiller's head. "This man was here four days ago."

"He was here?" David asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Well, not here exactly," the professor amended, "more specifically, he was at Calsci."

"Well that's not really so unusual is it?" Colby said with a wry chuckle. " I mean, don't professors do that all the time?"

"Of course they do but they usually make prior arrangements before coming; he just dropped in out of the blue."

Liz took a sip of her coffee before asking. "Did he say why he was there?"

"Professor Schiller said that he was on a sabbatical from Princeton and on his way to a conference at the University of Seattle. He said that he had a long layover at the airport and thought he would drop by the school to say hello."

David shrugged and stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. "Ah…Larry, that actually sounds pretty reasonable."

"The man specifically asked to meet with Charles." Larry retorted anxiously, his voice raising an octave.

"That's no surprise Larry," Nikki commented, sharing a glance with David. "I mean …the whole "genius" thing sort of puts him on the academic tourist tract….doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes," Larry replied impatiently with a frustrated sigh, "but don't you see? There's something else going on here. I admit one single event appears harmless enough but when we put them all together a pattern emerges."

"What events are you referring to Larry?" Liz asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

"To put it simply, on the day a former student of Princeton was found murdered, her old professor from Princeton shows up at CalSci to have an unannounced lunch with another former student. Then he leaves that afternoon to fly to Seattle where _another_ former student happens to live and is found murdered." He suddenly pointed at the photograph. "Add that photograph to the mix and it links everything together."

David rubbed the back of his neck; an uneasy feeling was beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach. "That's does sound a little too coincidental to me. What was he like at Princeton?"

Larry clicked his tongue and rolled his shoulders. "Ludwig wasn't the friendliest of people, he didn't have the best family life as a child and…." His voice trailed off as he thought of something. "Wait, I have a close friend who is a trustee at Princeton and if something happened there he will tell me."

"Wait, Larry, we really don't have any…." David started to say but it was too late, the professor had already hit the button.

"Come on…..answer!" Larry muttered rubbing a hand over his face in frustration as the phone rang for the fourth time but just as he was ready to give up he heard someone pick up the receiver then quickly switched the call to speaker mode so the agents could hear the conversation as well.

"Peter, this is Larry…..Larry Fleinhardt." The physicist replied after a sleepy voice answered. "I know it's late and it has been a while since we last spoke but I have a very important question to ask you."

"Larry?" His friend answered in surprise. "Hey it's nice to hear from you. Don't worry about the hour it's not every day that I get to talk to a famous astronaut. How have you been?"

"Ah….fine Peter but I can't really talk about that right now. I actually called because I need to ask you about Dr. Ludwig Schiller. "

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Peter tentatively responded. "What about Schiller?"

"Peter I need to know why he decided to go on a sabbatical?"

"My position on The Board of Trustees prohibits me from discussing the personal business of our professors Larry but you already know this." There was a pause and then his voice took on a guarded tone. "Why are you interested in Ludwig Schiller and for that matter where did you get the idea that he was on a sabbatical?"

"I don't have time to go into a lot of details right now Peter but please believe me when I say that this is a matter of the utmost importance." Larry pleaded desperately. "Please answer the question."

This time the silence was so long that Larry was afraid that he wasn't going to get an answer but finally Peter began to speak.

"All right Larry." His friend conceded. "But I expect you to let me know what is going on."

"I promise that I'll call you in the morning and explain everything." The physicist hastily agreed.

"I will hold you to that." Peter responded firmly. "I don't know where you heard that Schiller was on a sabbatical because it just isn't true. He didn't leave Princeton of his own free will; we had to force him to retire."

"Why?" Larry asked breathlessly; rising to his feet. "What did he do?"

"The…the man…violently attacked one of his students." Peter sputtered angrily. "I still can't believe it."

The four agents focused intently on the conversation; maybe Larry was onto something after all. David tilted his head and moved closer to the phone.

Larry was stunned by the revelation. "Why…why would he do that?"

Peter sighed heavily. "According to Ludwig he was administering some badly needed discipline but as it turned out he had suffered a mental break and the only way we could keep the boy's parents from pressing charges against Schiller, as well as the university, was to force him to take an early retirement." There was a moment of silence before Peter spoke again, his voice full of regret. "I can still see his face Larry …..the man was totally devastated when he received the news. Princeton has been the only home that he has ever known...and now he doesn't have that anymore."

"Can anything be done for him?"

"He spent a month undergoing therapy and was given medication but he doesn't like to take it. Ludwig kept complaining that he couldn't think…that it kept him from concentrating. That was the same thing that Nash always complained about….remember?"

"Yes I remember," Larry agreed sadly. 'When was the last time you saw him?"

"Ah…let me see…. I think it was about six months ago. I stopped by his place to check on him and was surprised to see a "sold sign" in front of his house. He was packing his car and told me that he had decided to travel around the country. Ludwig said that it was something that he had always wanted to pursue but had never taken the time to do it." Peter paused to swallow. "Ludwig was excited; I can't remember the last time that I saw the man so relaxed and happy. Did something happen to him?"

"Ah…not as far as I know. Peter, might I inquire what method of discipline Schiller imposed on the student?" Larry added breathlessly; a sudden thought occurring to him.

"You're not going to believe this Larry," the man sighed heavily again, "but Ludwig actually caned the boy. He only managed to strike him once before campus security intervened but that one blow was enough to end his career. Its use is against the law here in the states and as you are well aware Princeton has never sanctioned the use of corporal punishment but be that as it may, we can't deny the fact that one of our professors actually caned a student." Peter said, still clearly appalled that the incident had actually happened. "It's been over eight months and we're still reeling from the effects of his heinous act."

"Dear Lord!" Larry exclaimed, clapping his hands to his face.

"Where did you run into him? Is he there at CalSci?" When Larry didn't answer right away Peter asked fearfully. "Larry he didn't hit someone else, did he?"

"Oh, my friend," Larry replied mournfully, "I fear that it has gone far beyond that."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm afraid that I can't say anything right now but I promise that I will call you tomorrow and bring you up to date. Thanks for your help Peter, bye" Larry said quickly as he ended the call. He sat down heavily; staring at the silent phone then raised his eyes to meet those of the agents.

"We may have just found our mystery weapon." Liz muttered grimly, gazing at the crime scene photos.

Colby tapped the keys on his laptop and then whistled softly. "Would it be a surprise to anyone to learn that most of the canes used for _caning_ are made from rattan wood?"

"It looks like you might be on the right track Larry." David said, eyes darting from the professor to his agents. "We have enough circumstantial evidence to actively investigate Professor Schiller so let's see if we can track his movements since he left New Jersey; if he used credit cards that'll give us a paper trail to follow."

"I'll check with the DMV in New Jersey," Liz said, her fingers skimming across her keyboard," and find out what he is driving."

"Wait a minute," David said suddenly, tilting his head in puzzlement, "Larry you said that he told you he was flying to Seattle?"

"Right, he said that he had a long layover." The professor agreed thoughtfully. "I even offered to drive him back to the airport but he insisted on taking a cab."

"Nikki, check with LAX, find out what flight the man took to Seattle. Let's see if we can develop a time line between the murders."

"Larry, what was the name of the seminar that he was attending in Washington?" Colby asked fingers poised over his keys.

"You're thinking that was a lie too?" Nikki asked, glancing sideways at her fellow agent.

"Maybe," Colby shrugged, "it's worth a shot."

"I agree." David said turning to the professor. "Larry?"

Larry scratched his head thoughtfully. "Let me think…. I believe that he said he was attending a seminar on "Real algebraic manifolds" at the University of Washington in Seattle."

"That certainly sounds like something a mathematician would be interested in but it's easy enough to verify." Colby said beginning his search.

David patted Larry's shoulder lightly noting the tight lines around his eyes. "I know your worried about Charlie, so am I, but don't forget that Don is with him. I can't think of anyone that he would be safer with, can you?"

Larry took a deep breath and shook his head; it was the same thing that he had been thinking a little earlier. His eyes darted to his watch and then anxiously back to the agent.

"Shouldn't the Sheriff be there by now?"

**00000000000000000000**

Sheriff Fisher flipped on his turn signal and veered off from the main road but he didn't start applying the brakes until the entrance for The Castle Rock Cottages came into view. As it was, he barely missed a family of raccoons as his cruiser skidded to a halt in the gravel coated parking lot in front of the office.

The coons scattered in the wake of flying pieces of gravel generated from the force of the cruiser's slide and scurried off into the surrounding woods, disappearing from view just as a second vehicle joined the first.

Hank powered down his window and ordered his deputy to leave his car there and join him in the cruiser. He pealed out of the parking lot as soon as the passenger door closed and sped up the dirt road toward the cottage that Thomas Hill was renting.

"What's going on Hank?" Kenny asked breathlessly as he gripped the dashboard with both hands.

Henry kept a close watch on the dark tree lined road ahead but spared a brief glance for his deputy. "I got a call from an FBI agent in LA. He said Tom had been targeted by a serial killer and that we had to hurry if we were going to save him. "

Shock reflected on the face of his young deputy. "Why would somebody want to hurt Tom?"

"He didn't have time to go into detail," Hank replied with a shake of his head, "apparently the murderer kills his victims exactly at five a.m."

"Damn!" Kenny swore. "That doesn't give us much time."

"Yeah," the sheriff agreed grimly, "exactly what I said."

A bend in the road suddenly appeared at the edge of the cruiser's headlights and for the second time in less than ten minutes the sheriff skidded to a stop. Tom's cabin was just around the corner and he wanted to go the rest of the way on foot. Hank knew that they had a better chance of success if they were able to catch the killer by surprise.

Fisher turned off the engine; draping a pair of night vision binoculars around his neck he cautiously opened the door and clamored out. He closed the door, careful not to make a sound and looked up just as his deputy was about to slam his door shut.

"Kenny!" He spat out in a barely audible voice. Sounds echoed loudly through the woods, especially on a quiet night like this one; the last thing he needed was to warn the murderer that someone was approaching.

The deputy looked up and caught the door just before it made contact. He ducked his head in embarrassment and hurried over to join the sheriff. "Sorry Hank." he mumbled as he draped his own binoculars around his neck.

"Don't let it happen again son," Henry growled, "a mistake like that could cost someone their life."

"Yes sir," Kenny mumbled, fully chastised. "Now what Hank?"

"We make our way quietly to the bend and take a peek at what is waiting around the corner. Let's go."

Side by side they crept through the darkness, flashlights playing through the trees alongside of the road looking for any signs of movement. Just before they reached the bend a loud hoot echoed through the trees, startling them and they looked up just in time to see the silhouette of a large owl taking flight. They tracked its path as it crossed in front of the moon, now on its descent and barely above the treetops.

Dawn was approaching; they had to hurry.

**0000000000000000000000**

"You see it, don't you? The graph clearly shows your rise in failures as compared to your diminishing achievements."

Charlie leaned his shoulder against the black board; his hands tied behind his back and tried to follow the man's train of thought. It wasn't easy; one minute he would be talking about random matrices and the next he would be discussing the graph on the board. To make matters worse, the beatings had taken its toll on his body and had left him weak and dealing with constant pain which was making it hard for him to concentrate on Schiller's words.

"It …would appear…. that more value ….has been …given to… the failures…. than to the…. achievements. " Charlie said weakly, hoping to get the man to see his error without bringing another beating upon himself.

"Nonsense." Ludwig announced in a clipped voice. "You've forgotten about the distraction column. I told you in the beginning that the distractions would count in the failure column." He picked up a piece of chalk and underlined a word as he spoke.

Slightly bewildered, Charlie tried to focus on the board. Distractions? He didn't remember the man saying anything about _distractions._

"For instance, this one." Ludwig said, using the chalk as a pointer. "Teaching and all of its responsibilities have taken up far too much of your time so if I assign it ten data points and multiple that by how many years you have been teaching that will give me the end value." The older man stepped back to re-check his figures. "Teaching definitely moves the failure analysis up the graph."

"I like …to teach." Charlie ventured in a raspy voice.

"That should be considered an achievement, not a failure." Don called out in his brother's defense. "Charlie is an excellent teacher." The agent coughed and had to clear his throat. "Why do you consider that a failure?" He asked hoping to buy them some time while he worked at the lock on the hand cuffs. Sweat beaded on his upper lip as he quietly tried to open them. Normally it would have been a quick process but his hands were not only sweaty from his efforts but also numb from having been in the same position for so long.

Schiller glared at him. "It is a failure for him because he can do so much more than that. There are other people who can teach but there is no one else with his abilities, so yes, it is a failure on his part!"

Ludwig returned his attention to the board and moved the chalk point to the next topic on his list. His lips curled in a sneer. "Consulting is an absolute waste of your valuable time. You could have been putting your talents to more important pursuits." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Hmm, let's see….twenty data points times six years and the failure graph moves up higher on the board."

"My choice." Charlie responded, a hint of defiance still in his voice. "A very… wise man ….once told me that…. my life's work should be…. what I wanted it to be."

"Really?" Schiller sneered, "Who was this was man?"

Charlie raised his head weakly; love and pride reflecting in his dark expressive eyes as he met the man's gaze. "My father".

The older man smirked. "Family and friends," he said, underlying the next distraction on the list, "are the worst offenders."

"Offenders?" Charlie asked tiredly, squeezing his eyes shut as he leaned his forehead against the chalk board; the cool slate seemed to help ease the throbbing pain in his head.

"You were coddled Professor. Of course, that wasn't entirely your fault; your parents should have given you a more rigid childhood. More accurately, they should have sent you to an institution specifically geared toward handling children with your unique capabilities."

"Is that what happened to you?" Don cried out angrily.

Schiller clicked his tongue impatiently. "My own parents, Agent Eppes, saw the writing on the wall. They realized that they were incapable of raising a child with my gifts so when they were approached by the right people, they eagerly let me go."

Charlie opened his eyes and tilted his head slightly so he could see his brother.

"Your brother just uses you. " Ludwig said, waving his hand at Don. "You are nothing more than a tool to him, something to be used when it is needed and then stored away until it becomes useful once again…..nothing more than a resource."

"That's …not…true." Charlie cried heatedly, eyes flashing angrily. His gaze met Don's and then darted quickly away. Schiller's words were far too close to what he had been thinking about all week but he wasn't willing to share it with anyone else, especially Don.

But Don could read his brother and he had seen the hurt showing in Charlie's eyes before he looked away. He swallowed hard and realized that Charlie really believed what Schiller had said and he knew in his heart that it was his fault. By his own actions he had laid the foundation for his brother's doubts in their relationship and now it looked as if he would never have the chance to make him understand the truth. His heart fell as he watched Charlie's shoulders slump even further. Don called out to his brother as he continued to try and unlock the handcuffs.

"Don't believe him Charlie!" The agent pleaded, suddenly desperate for him to understand. "Look, the reason I came over tonight was so that we could talk things over. I know I've been distant lately but it wasn't because of you."

Schiller didn't interrupt but continued to work on the graph seemingly oblivious to anything going on around him.

"Buddy, please, look at me."

Charlie had sagged against the board, eyes closed and his forehead pressed against the blackboard. It looked to Don as if he had given up; that Shiller's last remarks had taken all of the fight out of him.

But Don wasn't ready to give up so he forged ahead. "I wasn't shutting you out Charlie; not really, it's just that I'm so used to doing things on my own that I just fell back into my old habits."

Charlie wasn't buying it though, and in his dazed condition the things that Schiller had said were beginning to make sense to him.

Don realized the time had come to be honest with his brother and with unshed tears in his eyes; he bared his soul to him.

"Look Charlie. Henderson was targeting you to get back at me so I thought if I kept you away he would think that you didn't matter to me and would leave you alone. That was a mistake, I see that now. " He frowned as his brother remained silent. "Please listen to me. Henderson was a threat and I was afraid that I would lose you so I slipped back into my old ways ….and pushed you away." He paused to swallow. "I'm sorry. I know that you have always looked up to me….and…and that the way I handled that case may have diminished me in your eyes but buddy I didn't push you away because I didn't want you around." Don's voice trailed off as Charlie looked up and met his eyes."I've been trying to explain it to you all week because I've been afraid…..that… that _you _didn't want me around anymore."

Under the fluorescent light attached to the black board Charlie gazed at his brother; tears glistening on his eyelashes. "Donnie…that could …never happen." He whispered his voice thick with emotion.

"I know." Don's voice caught in his throat. "I realize that now. I'm sorry Buddy, I didn't mean to give you the impression that I didn't want to be around you."

"This is all very touching," Schiller said coldly interrupting them, "but it doesn't change the outcome of this analysis. Family; wife, brother or father it doesn't make any difference, they are all distractions for you Professor and have kept you, and will continue to keep you, from achieving your full potential. "

He stepped back from the board and studied the graph; eyes roaming over the figures one last time before settling on the young man before him. "There can be only one conclusion based on the results of this analysis."

Charlie swallowed hard; he had known from the beginning what Schiller's decision was going to be but nevertheless it was a shock to his system to hear it proclaimed. His heart pounded in his chest as he glanced at his brother. When their eyes locked they shared a silent vow; no matter how this ended their love and bond as brothers would remain strong between them and whether only one of them survived or both, Schiller couldn't take that from them.

Charlie gave his brother a firm nod and forced his gaze to meet Schiller's. He raised his chin defiantly; he would not go down easy…..but he would meet his fate …with dignity.

TBC


	27. Chapter 27

By the Dawn's Early Light

By

1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: I truly appreciate your reviews.

Chapter 27:

"Are you sure about the name of that seminar Larry?" Colby asked, glancing sideways at the professor.

Larry waved a hand in the air and shook his head. "Yes, yes of course…I remember it clearly. Charles immediately brought the discussion to Nash's embedding theorem and…."

"Wait…Larry….stop." Colby sputtered, interrupting the professor before he could get involved in a lengthy discourse. "I'm just asking because according to their records the University of Washington didn't host any mathematical conferences this week."

"Really?" David asked thoughtfully then met Larry's eye. "So…. Professor Schiller lied to you twice."

"More than twice." Nikki huffed looking up from her laptop. "I've just checked the manifest on all of the flights to Seattle and Schiller's name doesn't appear on any of them. If the man went to Seattle he didn't go by air."

"Actually if he's our killer that makes more sense," David mused, "because there's no way that he would be able to get a gun on board a plane."

"Right, security's too tight." Colby nodded in agreement. "So…Schiller either drove or took the bus."

David stared at the crime scene photo of Angela Brogan then turned around to face his team. "What is it…like a 1200 mile drive to Seattle from here?"

"Hold on." Nikki muttered, tapping on her keyboard. "We are approximately 1,136 driving miles from Seattle."

"That's roughly eighteen hours and twenty-three minutes." Larry said as soon as she had finished speaking.

Nikki smiled and shook her head in amazement. "You guys never cease to amaze me."

"Larry what time did Schiller leave CalSci?" David asked as he walked back across the room.

The professor shrugged his shoulders. "Ah…maybe one o'clock or a little after that."

"Hypothetically let's say that he left LA by one-thirty and drove until….ah ….say eleven-thirty or twelve midnight." David mused out loud. "He stops at a motel for the night and leaves early in the morning, arriving in Seattle sometime in the afternoon."

"That would still give him plenty of time to murder Sean Leavens at five a.m. on Wednesday morning." Nikki said, rising to her feet. She arched her back, stretching her muscles, and then walked around the desk to stand next to David.

"It's only a three hour drive from Seattle to Castle Rock." Larry cried emphatically. "Suppose he's already killed Tom?"

"It may be too late for the sheriff to save Tom." David agreed, frowning. "Brogan on Monday, Leavens on Wednesday, and maybe Hill on Friday morning."

"If that's the case then Schiller is on his way back here…..for Charlie." Liz said grimly.

Larry's brow wrinkled worriedly. "An eighteen hour drive would put him back in LA late this afternoon."

"Right Larry." David said squeezing the professor's shoulder lightly. "If that's the case then we'll have plenty of time to put Charlie somewhere safe and set a trap for the Professor." He glanced sideways at Liz. "You get anything from Jersey yet?"

She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Still working on it."

**00000000000000000**

Using his right thumb Don slowly pushed the key around in his sweaty palm and at the same time tried to hold his fingers tightly together so that it wouldn't slip between them. He had almost lost it once but managed to catch it at the very last second; fearful that he wouldn't be so lucky a second time he clutched the key with such intensity that his fingers were beginning to cramp. Grasping the rounded tip of the key between two fingers he used the key end to feel around for the lock opening on the cuff around his left wrist; sighing with relief when the end of the key finally slipped into the lock.

Don froze suddenly when he caught movement in his peripheral vision; startled he shifted his seating position and straightened his shoulders, gasping when a sharp pain shot through his torso. Despite the agony, he was determined to keep the key in the lock and kept his hands from moving as Schiller came to a standstill in front of him.

"_Damn!"_ The agent swore as he stared at the man's feet, he had been concentrating so hard on unlocking the cuff that he had lost track of the man. "_Idiot!"_ Don berated himself, _"I know better than to do that. What's wrong with me?" _It was a cardinal rule, never take your eyes off of the perpetrator_;_ a rookie mistake and he couldn't believe that he had just made it. His heart hammered in his chest at the thought of being discovered and he had to beat down the sudden panic that was rising within him. "_Please, not now, I almost had it_." He pleaded silently_."Please don't take the_ _key from me. It's my only chance to save Charlie!"_ Don slowed his breathing and with trepidation raised his eyes to meet those of the madman. During the course of his career Don had met only a handful of criminals that had truly frightened him; Schiller had joined their ranks. As he raised his head he couldn't suppress a shudder; which persona was he going to face, the professor or the malevolent one?"

**0000000000000000**

Under the moonlit sky, Hank and Kenny crept around the bend and silently slipped behind a large old oak.

"Tom's jeep is parked in the driveway." Kenny whispered nervously. "I wonder why he didn't answer the phone when the agent called."

"Good question." Hank muttered grimly as he peered at the windows through his binoculars; the curtains were thin and it would be easy to see the shadow of anyone moving around inside the house. "Lights are on but I don't see any movement at all."

"What do you think it means?"The young deputy asked worriedly lifting up his binoculars to view the cabin.

'I'm not sure but I'm beginning to get a bad feeling about this." Fisher looked cautiously around the isolated cabin. The moonlight aided by the yellow glow from the cabin windows provided them with enough light to clearly see the area around the cabin making the flashlights only necessary for the deeper shadowed sections.

Hank slipped the gun from his holster, motioning for Kenny to do the same and a moment later they slipped around the tree; hunkering down they ran to a large bush near the front of the cabin.

"See that side window?" He asked, pointing to it with his chin. "The edge of the curtain is pushed to the side…let's see if we find out what is going on in there. Come on."

They ran in a crouch and stopped by Tom's jeep using it for cover while they listened for sounds of a threat. The sheriff placed the palm of his hand on the hood of the jeep then flashed a light inside the vehicle to confirm that it was empty. He squatted back down and glanced sideways at Kenny.

"The hood is cold….jeep hasn't been run for awhile and there's nothing inside." He nodded toward the house and they scurried over to the side of the cabin.

Cautiously the officers approached the window then pressed themselves against the side of the cabin. Hank edged closer to the window and peaked through the glass then squatted down beneath the window; Kenny knelt down next to him.

"I couldn't see anyone." The sheriff said softly. "There's a light on in the living room and one on in the kitchen but no sign of any activity."

"You think Tom's in the bedroom?" The young man asked in a hushed tone.

"Maybe," Hank said with a shrug, "let's check out the back."

**0000000000000000**

"That man could make you laugh or make you cry. He truly was a great entertainer."

Don's mouth gaped open in surprise; he'd looked up expecting to meet Schiller's evil persona only to discover that it was the other one and that he wasn't looking at him at all. Instead he was staring over his head at the TV set, totally immersed in an old series.

"Ah…..who are you talking about?" Don had long ago tuned out the sounds emanating from the TV so he had absolutely no idea whom the man was discussing. He peeked around Ludwig to view the clock; four twenty, he really didn't have time for this nonsense.

"Red Skelton of course." The man answered, surprise flitting across his features. He smiled and nodded at the TV in the back of the room. "I enjoyed all of the characters that he portrayed but Freddie the Freeloader was always my favorite one." He casually crossed his arms and laughed out loud at the comedian's antics, seemingly unaware of the pain and terror that he had inflicted on the brothers.

"_Shit_!" Don thought bitterly. If he had just been able to get one cuff loose this would have been the perfect time to catch Schiller off-guard and tackle him. Despite his injury he was sure that the attack would have been successful too; the element of surprise would have worked in his favor. His eyes drifted past the man to the front of the room. Charlie was weakening; he was turned sideways with his head, shoulder and hip sagging against the board. His heart poured out for his brother; what must he be thinking? Had he given up and accepted Schiller's decree or was he merely just trying to stay on his feet until the end?

Don's gaze darted back to the madman and he inhaled sharply as he watched him disappear behind him. "_Don't look at my hands_!" he thought desperately, enduring a stab of pain as he turned his head as far as he could to try and keep the man in sight. He swallowed hard; barely breathing while he waited for the lunatic to snatch the key from his hands.

Chuckling to himself, Ludwig stepped across the room to the refrigerator. Still watching the show he bent over and grabbed a soda then absently made his way back to the desk and sat down to watch the rest of the funny skit.

Don couldn't believe his luck when Schiller passed him by without spotting the key, now all he had to do was get the _damn _cuffs open. The agent couldn't wait any longer; it was now or never. He held his breath and turned the key; closing his eyes he gave a silent prayer of thanks when he heard the slight click of the lock and felt the cuff pop open. Don immediately glanced at the madman but was relieved to discover that he hadn't noticed his silent struggle. Now that one hand was free he had to resist the urge to wipe the sweat that was running down the side of his face but until the time was right he still had to maintain the façade that he was handcuffed. Trying to work at the lock had proven to be a challenge, especially since Schiller seemed to be paying closer attention to him than he had before.

"_Probably trying to decide what he is going to do with me; he'd already make it quite clear what_ _he was going to do to Charlie_." The agent thought darkly as he watched the man toss his soda can in the trash and begin to gather up his notebooks. He still glanced periodically at the TV but now seemed more intent in collecting his things. Don glanced sideways at his gun; he didn't stand a chance of getting to it as long as the man was watching him.

His eyes flickered forward and settled on his brother; Charlie was looking worse with each passing minute. He was listing sideways against the blackboard, head and one shoulder touching the board. His eyes were closed and to Don's observant eye, the rapid panting that he was doing was having little effect in his attempt to control the painful tremors that had resulted from the caning. Pain lines were etched deeply into his face, a silent testimony to the agonizing pain that he was being forced to endure. Charlie looked feverish; dark curls plastered to his forehead and there was fine sheet of sweat covering his face and neck. Don was fairly certain that the blackboard was the only thing that was keeping his brother on his feet.

"Charlie?" Don cried out anxiously as he worked at the lock on the other cuff. He opened his mouth to try again but closed it quickly when he felt the lock on the other cuff release; barely catching the handcuffs before they clattered to the floor. As it was, the sound of the metal pieces rattling together was loud enough to cause Schiller to glance curiously in his direction. He had risen from the desk and was currently erasing one of the whiteboards

Ludwig narrowed his eyes suspiciously and took a step toward the agent just as Charlie opened his eyes and shifted his weight to lean his other shoulder against the blackboard. The movement caught his attention and he twisted around to view the mathematician.

"Professor," Charlie rasped, "may I…. have a drink…. of water?" He had recognized the sound immediately and knew that he had to try something to distract Schiller. It was a desperate attempt to keep Schiller from checking Don's hands but he couldn't think of anything else to do; more to the point, he thought ruefully, his energy was all but spent; there was nothing else that he _could_ do.

Schiller grimaced; clearly annoyed at the request but nonetheless turned on his heel and stepped over to the desk to retrieve the bottle of water.

Charlie didn't look at his brother but kept eye contact with Ludwig, hoping to keep the man focused on him. Schiller didn't bother to untie his hands this time he just held the bottle to his mouth. "Thank….you." Charlie said quietly after a few short gulps of the tepid liquid.

"Humph." Ludwig snorted; sitting the bottle back on the desk before heading back to the whiteboard.

Only then did the young professor chance a brief glance at his brother. Don gave him a grateful look and a corner of Charlie's mouth lifted in a half smile. It had worked; Schiller had totally forgotten about the noise and for the moment Don's secret was safe. Wearily he sighed and leaned his head back against the blackboard; his brother's hands were free now and he felt his heart flutter with a little hope. Even if he didn't make it Don now had a chance to survive and with a little luck Alan Eppes would still have at least one son left when the sun rose over Pasadena that morning.

**00000000000000000000**

The sheriff and his deputy quietly worked their way around the side of the cabin to the back of the house. They crouched down and Hank clicked on his flashlight to check out the dark shadowed areas between the bushes and trees but the only movement he saw was a possum scurrying away. They crept beneath the bedroom window and placed their ears to the wall listening for sounds but none were forthcoming. The curtains were drawn and the room was dark but they stayed below the sill just in case someone might be looking out. They stayed close to the house, skirting the back porch until they came to the steps then Hank motioned that he was going to try the back door.

Kenny nodded, stepping back to get a good vantage point to cover the sheriff in the event someone came storming out the door. Hank aimed his gun off to the side as he slowly climbed the few steps to the porch. Gripping it firmly in his right hand he cautiously turned the door knob with his left and gave it a gentle push….but nothing happened; the door was locked. Backing cautiously down the steps he motioned for the deputy to follow him around to the front of the cabin.

"I don't like it Kenny….it's too quiet." Hank whispered, keeping his eye on the door. They were squatting at the edge of the front porch where they had a clear view of the front door and a window overlooking the porch. "If anyone was in there we would see shadows moving around or hear voices…it wouldn't be quiet like this." His voice took on a grim tone. "Either we're too late and the killer is long gone or Tom fell asleep and left the lights on."

Kenny swallowed and glanced at the door; eyes full of dread. "Oh, man…I hope Tom is just sleeping."

"Me too." Hank muttered. "Cover me; I'm going to see if the front door is locked." He crept quietly up the steps as Kenny got into position. Once again he aimed his gun to the side and turned the door knob but this time the door opened without any resistance. Fisher ducked down and to the side of the door gripping his gun with both hands. His young deputy scurried up the steps and took up a similar position on the other side of the door. The absolute silence filled Henry with foreboding even with the door opened a crack not a sound emanated from the cabin. He rose to his feet and pushed the door open a little wider before rapping loudly on the door.

"Tom! Thomas Hill!" The sheriff cried out then tilted his head, listening for the slightest noise but the only sound he heard was the scattering of mice as they scurried across the wooden floors. "This is Hank Fisher. I'm going to come in now…is that okay?"

Receiving no answer, he pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside with Kenny right behind him. His eyes drifted around the room, noting the ripped bag of take- out food on the kitchen counter, the papers scattered across the kitchen table and the white board next to it. The bedroom and bath were off to the right so he motioned for his deputy to check them out while he advanced toward the kitchen area. He had only taken a few steps when he noticed the bloody mice tracks so he knelt down on one knee to examine them; his eyes followed the crimson trail to Tom's body. Hank gasped in horror and rose quickly to rush over to his friend's side but he could already tell that it was too late.

"Dear God!" he whispered, kneeling down to check for a pulse anyway. But Tom's skin was cold to the touch, as he knew it would be, and death had clouded his eyes for at least forty-eight hours. Henry's hand trembled as he reached over and gently closed his friend eyes.

The sofa had blocked his body from view so when Kenny came out of the bedroom he couldn't see Tom but he could see the top of the sheriff's head; fearing that something had happened to Henry he rushed to his side.

"Hank ...what happened.….?" Kenny gasped as he slid to a stop beside of the sheriff. "Oh God!" he exclaimed, kneeling down next to Henry. "What kind of monster could do something like this?" He jumped to his feet again and glanced anxiously around the room; his gun at the ready.

"You can put your gun away son; whoever did this is long gone." Fisher replied heavily, returning his gun to his holster and rising to his feet; he had seen enough dead bodies in his lifetime to make an educated guess on the time frame of the victim's death. "From the condition of Tom's body I'd say that he's been dead for at least two days."

"You think he's been lying here for two days?" The deputy asked mournfully as he stared at the body. His eyes drifted to the bloody mouse tracks and the color abruptly drained from his face.

"S...s...orry." Kenny mumbled suddenly; putting a hand over his mouth as he turned and rushed out the door. He made it to the side of the porch and leaned out over the railing, retching uncontrollably.

Hank sighed as he watched his deputy's hurried departure. Kenneth J. Baxter had only graduated from the academy six months ago and Castle Rock was his first assignment. It was a shame that his first murder case happened to be someone that he knew.

The red blinking light on the answering machine caught his eye and he carefully stepped around Tom's body to check it out. Careful not to destroy any evidence, he pulled a pen from his pocket and hit the replay button. There were three messages; the first one had come in after three a.m.

"**Mr. Hill, my name is David Sinclair and I'm an FBI agent with the Los Angeles Branch and I have reason to believe that your life is in danger. I urge you to go straight to the sheriff's office at once. Please take this call seriously and call my office as soon as you get there."**

Hank glanced at Tom's body, noting its condition. He shook his head; the agent's message had come in far too late to do any good. He hit the play button for the second message.

"**Tom, this is Charlie and you've got to listen to me!" The caller's voice cried out urgently. "I know this is going to sound crazy but you have to believe me. You're in danger and you have to get out of there….go to the police…or…or somewhere that you are not alone. If Professor Schiller from Princeton shows up….run! The man is killing his former students…please! Tom….you have to hurry!"**

Hank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He recognized the caller's name; he'd heard Tom mention him many times. The man was supposed to be some kind of genius and Tom had said that he thought of him as a younger brother. His eyes drifted to one of the few photographs hanging on the wall. It was of two young men standing arm in arm near the crater of Mt. Saint Helens; Tom and Charlie. Henry sighed deeply and checked the time of the call, Friday night; it looked as if Charlie had figured out who the murderer was but his warning had also come too late. He pressed the play button for the last call, it was Charlie again but his voice sounded light and teasing. This one had come in Friday afternoon apparently before he knew of any threat against Tom.

"**Hey Tom, its Charlie. Take your nose out of that volcanic rock and pick up the phone. All right, just give me a call as soon as you can, will ya? I've got an important question to ask you. Catch you later."**

The sheriff glanced toward the door and swallowed thickly; bile rising up in his throat. He couldn't blame Kenny for going outside. "Hell," he muttered," I could use some fresh air myself."

Hank pulled out his cell phone as he stepped out on the porch but flipped it closed almost immediately. There were few cell towers on this side of the mountain and occasionally you could get a clear signal but unfortunately for him this wasn't one of those times.

Kenny was sitting on the steps holding his head in his hands but he looked up at the sound of footsteps. He rose to his feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I…I'm sorry Hank." He glanced apprehensively toward the door. "Do you want me to go back inside?"

Henry followed his gaze and shook his head. "Nothing we can do for Tom now and besides we'll need to stay out so the forensics people can check it over for evidence." He stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out his keys. "Here," he said handing them to the young man, "go get the patrol car. Call Adie and tell her that I need to talk to that FBI agent again."

"Right Sheriff." He said, grabbing the keys; relieved to have an excuse to get away from the cabin.

"Make if fast, okay?" Hank called glancing back at the door. "I have a feeling that Agent Sinclair will need to know what's happened as soon as possible."

**00000000000000000000**

Confident that he had been fair in his evaluations and that all of his equations were correct, Schiller returned to the desk and began to gather up the remainder of his things; dawn was drawing nigh and he would have to leave quickly. Ludwig picked up the cane but as he started to put it in the duffel bag a sudden thought occurred to him; turning on his heels he headed for Charlie. He stopped in front of the young professor, tapping one end of the cane lightly against his left palm while he stared intently at him.

Charlie fearfully tracked the cane with his eyes; he knew without a doubt that he wouldn't survive another beating and he closed his eyes in anticipation of what was coming but when nothing happened he opened them once again. Schiller was still standing there, observing him quietly.

"By the way, has it occurred to you that I will become famous if I kill you?"

Charlie blanched; his mouth opening and closing without a reply. How could the man just blurt out something like that and in such a mild tone of voice? He could have been talking about the weather; there was no compassion, regret or any kind of emotion in his voice; the man's insanity had not only robbed him of his mind but had taken his humanity as well.

"My name will become a household word, like the man that shot John Lennon. " Ludwig inclined his head and studied the young man. "I believe the man's name was Chapman…or something like that."

Don glared at the man's back; eyes darkening with pure rage. Had this been Schiller's intention all along? To kill Charlie because that would make him famous! Unable to restrain himself he shouted angrily at the man.

" If that's what you have been after all along then why go through with this farce!"

"Do not be absurd," Ludwig retorted haughtily, turning around to face the agent. "I merely mentioned it because it will be a byproduct of my actions." Besides," he sniffed, "I'm not the only one worried about how the academic world will remember your brother; he has also been concerned about the legacy that he will leave behind."

To prove his point he rushed over to the desk and jerked open the drawer containing Charlie's letter; pulling it out he shook it at the agent. "Here in his own hand, he writes about the very thing that I am trying to help him preserve."

_**What footprints have I left behind? Do they endure, or has the ocean of discovery washed them away already?**_

_**How many lives have I touched?**_

_**Have I touched you?**_

_**"**_Someone once told me that feeling that way was normal. We all worry about what we will leave behind." Don said, meeting his brother's eyes with an encouraging nod before turning back to face Schiller.

"Through my deeds tonight he will always be looked upon with the greatest of respect." Ludwig said ignoring Don's comment; glancing at Charlie he smiled proudly. "My actions will assure that you will never be forgotten by the academic world."

Charlie swallowed hard, tasting bile; the man truly thought that he was doing him a favor by ending his life. "_Where will it end," he thought sadly," if we can't stop him tonight? How many more people will he kill?" _

Schiller pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time then turned to face Charlie.

"I will give you the same opportunity that I have given all of my students. Do you have any other works that should be added to the achievement column that might alter the outcome of my analysis?"

Charlie's mind had gone blank; his senses completely overwhelmed by everything that had happened. He ducked his head and looked away, trying to get his thoughts in order. Don…Don would know what to do he thought wildly; his gaze darting toward his brother but his heart sank even further when he met his brother's panic filled eyes.

"Professor Eppes," Ludwig's voice intoned coldly, "unless you have something more to add to the achievement column, in twenty-five minutes your destiny will be decided."

TBC


	28. Chapter 28

By the Dawn's Early Light

By

1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1:

A/N: As always, I appreciate all of your reviews.

Spoilers: Angels and Devils

Chapter 28:

The room tilted crazily sending Charlie staggering backward against the blackboard. The sudden jolt of movement triggered another wave of agonizing tremors to surge through him forcing a groan from his lips as every nerve in his body seemed to catch on fire. He managed to grab the chalk tray at the last minute to keep from falling but with his hands tied behind his back he could barely grip it with the tips of his fingers. His head swam dizzily and he squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to control the nauseous feeling rising in his stomach.

Charlie felt like he was going to black out but he forced himself to remain conscious and fought back the engulfing darkness. Desperately he searched for that special place in his mind that could take the pain away and almost sobbed in relief when the numbers began to swirl through his head; pushing everything else away. They were his way out, an escape route that only he could access; he could lose himself in them and live the remaining minutes of his life lost in the golden ratio…no more pain and no more sorrow.

He was tired of listening to Ludwig's endless threats, of hearing his life's choices put down by a lunatic and finally, he was just plain physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted. Charlie didn't care anymore, he wanted desperately to get away from it all so he let his mind drift toward an imaginable ledge that he could step over and fall into a world that contained nothing but his beloved numbers.

Charlie began to feel numb and slightly disconnected as he gazed over that imaginary ledge and the mathematical world beyond. The pain was becoming distant and he eagerly moved forward, ready to take that final plunge but as he moved to step over the edge a sudden thought jerked him back to reality…Don!

His eyes snapped open and he bowed his head in defeat; there was no way that he could leave his brother behind; they were in this together…to the end. Charlie raised his head and met Don's worried gaze then looked away guiltily, afraid that his brother might discover his moment of weakness. A passing memory flitted across his mind, a memory of something that Don had once told him at another moment of crisis in his life. "_Look I've seen this happen to you over and over again. The stress gets too close to_ _home and you don't see straight, you check out."_ He shivered from the pain and gritted his teeth as reality enveloped him full force but he pushed the pain back determined that he wouldn't _check out _this time. He would stay as long as his brother needed him…or until the choice was taken from him.

"Did you hear what I said Professor?" Ludwig asked impatiently. "Do I need to remind you of the time?"

Schiller was speaking again, drawing his attention away from his brother, but this time the younger man didn't try to mask his feelings. His eyes hardened in anger and a little color rose in his cheeks.

"You don't….have to…..keep …..repeating everything …Professor," Charlie panted his tone full of contempt. He was tired of hearing the same rhetoric over and over again. "I…understood your…intentions…the first …time that you...stated them. Do you …think that…by repeating yourself...over and over…that...you can justify…your…actions?"

Maybe the mental illness made Ludwig forget how many times that he had told him that he would die at dawn. Perhaps it affected his memory the same way that alcohol alters a drunks memory when he repeats the same story over and over again without realizing it, but whatever the reason, Charlie had had enough.

He sagged weakly against the blackboard, his strength all but gone. Why did Schiller keep saying that he might have a chance when Charlie knew full well that there was nothing that he could show him that would make any difference.

"You surprise me, it's usually at this point my students beg me to look at their other projects, yet you show no such compulsion." Ludwig said, stubbornly pursuing the matter. "Why is that Dr. Eppes?"

"I'm not going….to…beg." Charlie cried defiantly, meeting his eye. "You…can...go to hell!" He didn't have enough energy to put the emphasis on his words that he would have liked too but Schiller got the message.

"You arrogant fool!" Ludwig spat angrily. "I'm trying to give you a chance to save your life and you're just throwing it back in my face!"

"Wait!" Don cried out desperately as an idea came to him. "Charlie, why don't you show him that theory you've been working on?" He winked at him with his good eye and nodded his head at Schiller.

"Huh?" Charlie asked, his brow wrinkling in puzzlement; between the pain and fatigue he was having a difficult time focusing on anything.

Don's voice took on a more demanding tone as he tried to get his brother to understand what he wanted him to do. "You know….that Cognitive Emergence ….thingy. Tell him about that." He added firmly with another wink and nod.

"Why…bother. It won't…make…any difference." Charlie disagreed bitterly, shaking his head slightly in an effort to clear his mind so that he could figure out what his brother was trying to tell him.

"Please Charlie!" Don pleaded with another urgent nod toward the madman.

"Oh." Charlie whispered, his eyes widening as he suddenly realized what his brother wanted him to do; Don needed a diversion so that he could go for his gun.

"Perhaps you could enlighten me Professor and tell me about this _thingy_." Schiller suggested sarcastically rolling his eyes while he mimicked Don; totally missing the silent exchange between the brothers.

Angered at the man's open disdain toward his brother, Charlie lifted his chin and cried defiantly."You…have...no right…to mock... ...my brother."

Don's patience was at an end. "Just do it Charlie!" He gave his brother a pointed look, followed by an angry nod toward the lunatic.

Charlie's eyes darted back to his brother. "Okay…fine!" He conceded irritably and turned to face Ludwig. "I'm working…. on a unified theory …of the neural ….network and….higher …cognitive functions."

"The math of the brain?" Schiller asked; tilting his head in curiosity. He lay the open pocket watch on the desk and took a step closer to the mathematician; his demeanor suddenly changing to one of interest.

Wary of the man's intentions, Charlie tried to move further down the blackboard but Schiller grabbed his arm and pulled him forward.

"Show me." He whispered urgently, his face only inches from the young man. "There isn't much time."

Charlie's heart fluttered, hope fighting a final struggle within his chest; was that really recognition and intelligence lighting up the old man's eyes?

"It's on my desktop… over there." He said, pointing at the computer with his chin.

Ludwig hurried over to the desk and sat down, turning the chair toward the computer stand situated to the left of the desk. Charlie gave him the password and instructions on how to retrieve the program then sagged sideways against the blackboard as the man began to peruse his theory.

He was heartened by the man's interest and he raised hopeful eyes to meet those of his brother only to find that Don was no longer in the chair. His brow furrowed with worry as he glanced at the coffee table; Don's gun was still on the table but there was no sign of his brother. Don had been hurt, what if his injuries had been so severe that he couldn't make it over to the table? No, he told himself forcibly, Don was just waiting for the right time to make his move. He eyed the open space between the desk and table thoughtfully; his brother would be in plain sight if Schiller looked up from the computer screen…..unless he could block his view. He took a deep breath, pushed away from the blackboard and on wobbly legs stumbled over to the desk. He staggered to a stop at the front left corner of the desk, placing himself in the optimal spot that would assure Don the most cover.

"Is is …okay if I… sit here?" He asked breathlessly when the older professor looked up inquiringly.

Ludwig waved a hand dismissively and returned his attention to the screen. "That's fine."

Charlie's fingers brushed against his brother's phone as he sat down on the edge of the desk and he pretended to accidently knock it over the side; wincing when he heard a dull thud and a muffled "_ouch_!"_Oops sorry bro," he_ _thought guiltily, "I didn't mean to hit you but at least now you have a phone_."

The room suddenly began to spin and he shut his eyes momentarily. It amazed him how just taking those few steps from the blackboard to the desk could weaken him so much. Charlie's eyelids fluttered open and he glanced warily at Ludwig but to his relief the man was engrossed in his Cognitive Emergence theory and hadn't noticed the disappearance of the phone.

It was up to Don now; he had done everything that he could think of to give his brother a chance to make it. Charlie had complete faith in Don…he just wished that he would hurry. He glanced at the clock and frowned; it didn't take a mathematician to realize that the odds were in Schiller's favor.

**000000000000000**

Colby tapped the table with his pencil and glanced at the time on his laptop; seventeen minutes until dawn. He hated waiting and would much rather be kicking down doors somewhere bringing down the bad guys than sitting there waiting for the Sheriff to get back to them. He sighed and rose to his feet, clutching his empty coffee cup in his hand but before he made it to the door Liz spoke up.

"David I'm finally getting that data on Schiller."

It's about time," the agent complained. "What the hell took them so long anyway?"

Liz simply shrugged and chuckled. "They haven't given me a reason but at least I have some info on Schiller's vehicle. He drives a gray, 2011 Volvo and I'm running his license number through our nationwide data base now. Other than the incident at the school the man has been a model citizen and has had very little contact with the law."

"It only takes once." Nikki huffed with a toss of her head.

Liz shared a grin with her partner before dropping her eyes back to the laptop. "I'm starting to get some hits on his license number." Suddenly she looked up and scanned the pictures of the victims on the plasma screen.

David stepped forward expectantly. "Did you find something?"

"The Atlanta P.D. issued him a parking ticket on May 14, th 2011." She met David's eye. "That gives us a connection to our third victim, James Regan. Murdered on May 15th, 2011 in Atlanta, Ga."

"It certainly sounds like he is our man, doesn't it? You got anything else?" His cell suddenly rang and he quickly snapped it open."Sinclair. Yes I'll hold." He eyes drifted over the faces of his agents as he put the phone on speaker and set it on the table. "It's Fisher."

"Agent Sinclair?" The Sheriff's grim sounding voice resonated around the room.

"I'm here Sheriff." He answered in a quiet voice, bracing himself for the bad news.

"We we're too late to save Thomas Hill," Hank informed him sadly, "and the killer is long gone."

"I'm sorry Sheriff; I know he was your friend. Can you tell me how he died?"

Hank sighed heavily. "Tom appeared to have been beaten, and his hands were tied behind his back but it was a bullet to the back of the head that killed him. Does that fit with your serial killer's m.o.?"

"Yes it does. I'm sorry, if we'd found out sooner we might have been able to prevent his death yesterday morning."

There was silence and then. "You think he was killed Friday morning?"

"That would follow the killer's pattern," David replied, puzzled by the question. "He killed one victim on Monday morning and another on Wednesday morning so Friday would fall right in line. Why do you ask?"

"I think your pattern is wrong son," Hank informed him grimly, "or your murderer has changed it because Tom has been dead for at least forty-eight hours."

David's head snapped up. "Are you sure about this Sheriff?"

"The medical examiner can say for sure but I've seen a few dead bodies in my time Agent and I'd bet my badge that Tom was killed two days ago."

"Thanks Sheriff," David replied, rubbing his brow worriedly as an uneasy feeling began to form in his gut." We'll send an agent over from Seattle to take charge of the scene."

"Wait Sinclair." The Sheriff called out before he could end the call. "There's one more thing that you should know about?"

"What's that Sheriff?"

"I found a phone message from a close friend of his. He warned Tom that a Professor Schiller was going to kill him and urged him to seek police protection. Unfortunately for Tom his message came too late."

David shared a surprised look with Colby. "Sheriff do you know who called…..and what time did the call come in?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure that the call was from his friend Charlie…Charlie Eppes," the sheriff drawled, "and the call came in around eight o'clock last night."

"Charlie called him?" Larry suddenly blurted out, his eyes widening fearfully. "Why didn't he call us?"

"You know him?" The Sheriff asked responding to Larry's exclamation.

"Yes," David answered, "he's a friend and is actually consulting for us on this case."

"Well that explains how he knew to warn Tom but I have to say that it doesn't bode too well for him if he hasn't contacted you yet."

"Yeah," David said, suddenly eager to get off of the phone. "I got that Sheriff. Listen I have to go."

"I understand." There was a pause and then Hank added grimly. "I hope you make it in time son."

"Thanks." The agent replied breathlessly, ending the call.

"David," Liz exclaimed as the pitch of her voice went higher. "Schiller got a speeding ticket on his way to LA!"

"When?" Nikki asked anxiously.

"Yesterday morning," Liz replied, rising to her feet, "at ten o'clock, just past the Lost Hills exit."

"That's only two and half hours out." Colby said, jumping to his feet. "That means…"

"Schiller's already there and he's got them both." David growled, slamming his fist on the table in frustration. "Come on," he ordered, racing for the door. "We'll try and get through to Don on the way."

They made it to the parking lot in record time and all piled into one of the SUV's; Liz and Nikki jumped in the back while Colby clamored in the front passenger seat. It wasn't until David closed his door that he noticed that Larry had followed them out; he powered down the window as he started the engine.

"I'm sorry Larry, you can't come with us."

Shock then anger registered on the astrophysicist's face. "You can't leave me behind," he cried emphatically. "They're my friends too!"

"I know," David replied sympathetically, speaking quickly as he put the vehicle in gear, "but Schiller is armed and I can't take a civilian to a dangerous location. I'll call you as soon as I can." He flicked on the lights and hit the siren button as he pulled out of the parking garage: tires squealing loudly behind him.

Larry stood still, mouth gaping open in disbelief. "The hell I'm waiting behind!" he mumbled angrily and then made a beeline for his car. He started his engine but hit the speed dial on his phone and put it on speaker before pulling out of the lot. He knew that he couldn't make it to CalSci before five; it took at least fifteen minutes to travel the eleven miles to Pasadena and unlike the FBI vehicle he didn't have the added benefit of the lights and sirens. But all that aside, he had decided that someone else should be made aware of the events that were transpiring at CalSci so he planned to make a quick stop along the way.

His heart was hammering so loudly in his ears that he almost didn't hear the sleepy voice of Alan Eppes as he answered the phone.

"Hel…, "there was the sound of a cough and then, "hello?"

"Alan, listen to me. Get dressed right away; I'm going to pick you up in ten minutes."

"Larry?" Alan's gravelly voice responded. "Pick me up? Aren't you at the Craftsman?"

"No," Larry answered slowing down for a stop light, "I'm on my way back from the FBI office."

"The FBI?" Alan asked, his voice was more alert now but was beginning to take

on a more fearful tone. "Has something happened to Don?"

"I'll explain when I get there, just be ready." The light changed and he surged ahead. "Hurry Alan." He urged just before he clicked off the phone and stepped on the accelerator.

**00000**

Don waited with bated breath as Schiller began to scroll through Charlie's equations then when he was sure that the man's attention was fully focused on the computer screen he made his move.

Ever so slowly he brought his arms forward then quickly slid to the floor, landing on top of the pieces of the broken hour glass, pictures and other items that had been on his brother's desk. A sharp pain sliced through his torso with such intensity that he was afraid he was going to black out. The darkness was gathering at the edge of his vision and he bowed his head, panting rapidly to keep it at bay; he couldn't afford to pass out now.

He scooted back against the desk and gasped as a thousand pins and needles seem to strike him at once; his body had grown stiff from sitting in the chair for so long and his legs had fallen to sleep. He pulled his legs up against his chest so that he could untie his feet and restore some of the circulation to them. Something hit him on the head and an involuntary _ouch _was forced from his throat. The object landed on his shoulder then slid down his chest before he was able to catch it. He gaped in surprise at his phone and turned his head to the side, eyes drifting upward to find his brother sitting on the corner of the desk. How long had Charlie been sitting there? With his injured eye on his left side Don had never seen any movement at all; any other time he would have berated himself for letting that happen but right now he didn't have a spare minute to worry about it. He flipped open his phone and was just about to hit the speed dial for David when his phone rang. Don answered before it could ring again thankful for the first time that night to have the TV on.

"Don?" Colby asked. "Are you and Charlie okay?"

"No." Don whispered urgently."We're in Charlie's office and we need immediate assistance." He glanced at the time on the phone and it spurred him on. "Listen up. There is one armed gunman who plans to kill Charlie in nine minutes. We are both injured and need medical attention!"

"Don we're on our way but it's going to be close. Nearest LAPD unit is thirteen minutes out."

"Get here as fast as you can." Don ordered, closing the phone. It was up to him then and he didn't have any more time to lose. His legs were still numb but he couldn't wait for them to wake so he began to crawl toward the table. He paused at the corner of the desk and squeezed his brother's ankle to let him know that he was there.

"Charlie?" He whispered, looking upward.

His brother turned his head sideways and glanced downwards, shifting his stance slightly so that he could see him better. He glanced at Schiller and then back down again.

"Don't feel…so good." He whispered weakly, his expressive eyes full of pain.

"I know Buddy." Don whispered back worriedly. "Just hang on a few more minutes, okay?"

Charlie just nodded his head and turned back to keep an eye on Ludwig. Don felt a shudder course through his brother's body and reluctantly released his hold on Charlie's ankle as he forced his lethargic and pain-ridden body to move forward.

Don began to crawl, cursing himself because he couldn't move any faster but every precious inch that he gained was filled with sharp pains. He paused suddenly and gasped for breath as a particularly intense pain cut across his chest forcing a guttural groan from his throat. He saw stars and the room began to spin around him; swaying slightly on his knees he bowed his head as a wave of nausea hit him and squeezed his eyes shut until the nauseous feeling passed. Don swallowed thickly and broke out in a cold sweat but forced himself to remain on his knees. He raised his head slowly and focused on the table, he could almost touch it now but his gun was on the far side of the table which meant he still had some distance to cover.

He heard a noise and looked over his shoulder; Schiller had Charlie at the blackboard again and was adding some figures to one of the columns. He squinted at the clock with his good eye and panic spurred him forth. With Schiller on his feet his chances of discovery increased so he chose to crawl between the sofa and table, hoping that the table would hide him from view. Don tried to crawl faster and ignored the pain as he edged closer and closer to his goal. A sob of relief escaped his clenched teeth as he finally knelt beneath the spot on the table where his gun rested.

Cautiously he stretched out his hand and pulled his gun from the table just as the first chime sounded from Schiller's pocket watch.

**00000**

Stunned, Schiller looked up from the computer and met the eyes of his former student. Unshed tears glowed in his hazel eyes as he was completely over-whelmed by the sheer brilliance of the young man's theory.

"It's ….it's so elegant," he whispered in awe; raising to his feet he purposely strode for the blackboard. Ludwig grabbed an eraser and erased several lines of numbers then replaced them with new ones. He stepped back and studied the new set of numbers then turned to face Charlie, excitement lighting ups his features.

"Come here Charles, you have to see this." He said excitedly, rushing toward him.

"What?" Charlie exclaimed in alarm as Ludwig approached him. He really didn't want the man near him and tried to stand so that he could get out of his way but in his weakened condition he moved too slowly and soon found himself face to face with the man. But as Charlie gazed at him he realized that he was seeing the man that he had first met all those years ago at Princeton, the brilliant mathematician he had known before the conflict in his class had arisen. His heart quickened with hope as the man put a gentle arm around his shoulders and helped him to the blackboard. Had he truly come to his senses? Was it over?

"Look," Schiller said beaming at him, almost giddy with excitement, "your Cognitive Emergence Theory has pushed the achievement column to the top of the graph!"

Astonished, Charlie stared at the graph. Did this mean what he thought it meant? He wanted to believe it but considering the man's mental state he couldn't fully trust what Ludwig was saying; there had to be a catch.

They stood side by side, staring at the graph and when Charlie wavered the older professor supported him with one arm as he continued to rave about the graph. Then suddenly Charlie sensed a change in the man's demeanor and his eyes darted quickly to his face.

"Of course, it could take you years to finish it. There are so many variables that you have to consider." Schiller suddenly shook his head and sighed heavily. "You would have to change your ways, do away with all of these distractions and I'm not sure that you will do that."

"A lot of my…. data has come… from personal experience; not everything ….can come ...from reports. " Charlie cried out desperately, pausing to take a breath. "You can't take…. out the human element….it's field work….just field work." Charlie searched his face anxiously, hoping against hope that Ludwig would accept his explanation.

Schiller silently studied the younger man's words; eyes drifting back and forth between his face and the blackboard.

Charlie shifted nervously under the man's gaze. His body was trembling now, not out of fear, but out of weakness from his injuries, and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to stay on his feet.

"Field work." Schiller repeated, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, I can see how that would be a necessary component in this particular theory."

Charlie licked his lips and swallowed nervously. "It's over… right? I mean my achievements won…right?"

Ludwig opened his mouth to answer but at that moment the first chime rang from his pocket watch drawing his attention away.

Charlie followed his gaze to the watch and then glanced at the clock. _"Oh God," he thought suddenly panic –stricken. "There are only five minutes left!" _

Schiller's head swiveled back around and he met Charlie's eyes. "I know you're tired, but in a few minutes it will all be over. Soon you will be able to rest." He added kindly as if he suddenly realized the physical stress that he had inflicted on the young man.

"What do… you mean?" he asked fearfully, his heart quickening as he tried to step back but Schiller's hand remained on his shoulder, linking them together. Something was wrong, his eyes were different now, and the intelligence that he had seen earlier had been replaced by something else.

"No…..no," Charlie cried desperately, shaking his head in denial. "Not now. Bring the… other one back. I want to…. talk to the …other one."

"That one," Ludwig said darkly, "has been banished from my mind."

**0000**

The second chime pealed from the watch spurring Don to move faster. Shaking from pain and driven by desperation he slipped his Glock 19 from its holster and knelt by the table. Gasping from a sharp pain he nevertheless leaned over the table, using it to brace his arm and steady his hand.

**0000**

At the sound of the second chime Charlie's eyes widened as Schiller pulled the revolver from his pocket and held it loosely in his hand. "I…I…don't understand." He said, his voice raising an octave. The…achievement column…surpassed the…failure column."

Ludwig glanced at the board and pointed to the column with the gun. "That is true; it's the first time that has happened." The hand holding the gun dropped to his side as he faced Charlie again. "Your theory is truly remarkable and it is a pity that I will never see it completed."

The remaining color that was left in Charlie's face drained with Schiller's words. A few minutes earlier he had actually begun to think that the man had regained his senses and was going to let him go but the personas had shifted, the_ catch_ had been revealed, and all hope was lost.

**000**

Don wiped the sweat from his hands as the third chime resonated around the room. His trembling hands was posing a problem, he couldn't hold his gun steady enough to take aim. Frantically he glanced around the table for something high and sturdy enough to rest his gun hand on while he fired. Suddenly he spotted Charlie's book bag lying on the floor by the couch so without thinking he twisted around to grab it;suppressing a moan as a sharp pain flared across his chest. Stubbornly refusing to let the pain hold him back he dumped the contents onto the floor and spied two books that he thought would be useful. He quickly picked them up and stacked them on the table.

Don glanced up just as Schiller was using the revolver as a pointer and his heart jumped to his throat. "Shit!" he muttered, "I've got to hurry!"

**000**

"You…don't have…to do …this?" Charlie whispered, his breathing becoming erratic at the sound of the third chime. "_Where was Don?"_ he thought desperately, surely he had made it to the table by now. Schiller was standing directly in front of him, blocking his view, so he had no way of knowing if his brother had made it or was lying on the floor somewhere.

"Please don't forget to pay the debt." Schiller muttered, more to himself than to Charlie.

Startled, Charlie met his eyes. "Wh…what?"

"Death Dr. Eppes, the debt that all men must pay." Schiller replied grimly, "sooner or later we all pay the debt. That is the only way I can achieve my redemption."

**00**

Don tried to hold his hand steady as the fourth peal of the chime rang out. He only had clear vision in his right eye so he squeezed his left eye shut and zeroed in on his target. Schiller was standing directly in front of his brother, he couldn't even get a visual on Charlie which meant that unless he could get the gunman to turn around he would have to go for a head shot. Ludwig was a taller than Charlie so that was the only place that he could shoot the man without being afraid that his shot would pass through him and hit his brother

Sweat dripped in his eye so he dipped his head and rubbed his face against the sleeve of his shirt to clear his vision. Don heard the sounds of distant sirens; David and his team, but they would be too late.

Don slowed his breathing, focused on the target and wrapped his finger around the trigger.

**00**

The fourth peal of the chime sounded like a death toll to Charlie's ears. In the distance he thought he heard the sound of sirens but discarded them as a means of rescue; even if by some miracle they were racing to rescue them their arrival would be too late.

Schiller cocked the revolver and raised it between them while his other hand tightened its grip on his shoulder.

"You might want to turn around," Ludwig said thickly, "this will be hard for you to see."

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut for a second then opened them. Lifting his chin he stood eye to eye with the man and clenched his jaw tightly. "If you…are going…to kill…me then...you'll have…to...look...me in...the eye when...you...do it."

Suddenly Don's voice shouted from behind them. "Drop the gun Schiller or I'll shoot. Drop it now!"

Charlie's eyes lit up hopeful**ly** but Ludwig ignored Don's warning and raised the gun up higher until he was facing the barrel of the gun. His heart dropped as he forced his eyes from the gun to Schiller's face.

"I'm sorry," Ludwig whispered, as a single tear slid down his cheek.

**0**

As soon as the fifth chime began to peal the room exploded with the noise of gunfire. The sound of two shots, fired almost simultaneously, roared throughout the silent Math building.

TBC


	29. Chapter 29

By The Dawn's Early Light

By

1st Endeavor

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1_

A/N: Thank you for your reviews.

_**One second: **__**A unit of angular measure equal to one sixtieth of a minute.**_

Chapter 29:

**4:59:59**

"I'm sorry," Ludwig whispered, as a single tear slid down his cheek.

Charlie tilted his head back so that he could clearly see the man's face; Schiller's height and their close proximity had made it a necessity. He realized now that he had misread the look in Ludwig's eyes; his original conclusion that the evil persona had returned had proved to be a false one. Instead the man that stood before him had finally regained his sanity….but it had come with a high price. The heinous deeds that he had committed were too much for him to bear and for the first time since his former professor had walked into his office Charlie saw guilt, compassion and remorse reflected in the man's tormented eyes.

The young professor stood speechless, watching in stunned silence as Schiller raised the barrel of the small revolver and placed it beneath his own chin seeking atonement in the only way that he knew how….by taking his own life.

As if from a great distance the younger man heard his brother call out to Ludwig and order him to drop the gun. Anxiously Charlie stared into Ludwig's eyes, hoping that he would see reason and drop the weapon but he just smiled sadly as he wrapped his finger around the trigger. He squeezed Charlie's shoulder tightly as if to reassure him that he would see it through to the end and do the right thing or perhaps Ludwig just needed to feel the touch of another human being to give himself the courage to follow through with his decision. Whatever the reason, Ludwig closed his eyes and prepared to pull the trigger.

Charlie opened his mouth to warn Don of Schiller's intentions but at that very moment the fifth chime resonated throughout his office and suddenly the world around him erupted into some macabre scene from a horror film.

He wanted to look away but it was as if some invisible hand was holding him in place; forcing him to be an unwilling witness to a horrifying act. Charlie didn't need to see the pieces of the man's skull flying all around him to know that Don's aim had been true. Time seemed to slow to a crawl like a slow motion scene from a movie; every detail, and every movement seen with absolute clarity.

Charlie was amazed at how calm he felt, as a matter of fact he realized, he didn't feel anything at all. He should be terrified but he wasn't. Was it because he had endured so much pain and emotional trauma during the night that he couldn't absorb anymore or was it simply because he had accepted his fate?

Ludwig's eyes had burst open, registering shock before going completely blank. The grip he had on Charlie's shoulder lessened but his hand remained there as his body listed forward. His other arm began to fall but at the same time the muscles in his hand jerked convulsively forcing the finger that he had wrapped around the trigger to tighten.

The gun roared to life on its downward spiral; the sound deafening Charlie's ears. He blinked rapidly against the bright muzzle flash and tried to move out of the way of the bullet but knew with mathematical certainty that it was going to hit him. Even now, knowing that the probability of his survival was zero to none his mathematical mind was still crunching the numbers as his brain automatically calculated the distance, trajectory of the bullet, inclination of the gun and muzzle velocity.

"_The paths of the victim and shooter would have to intercept in both time and space within a suitable environment." _He remembered saying that to his brother when he was consulting on a case but he couldn't remember the exact circumstances. Well the parameters had certainly been met in this particular instance but he had never expected it to apply to him.

It was hard for him to comprehend that all of this chaos had been wrought in one second. Larry would say the second was redefined to be 9,192,631,770 periods of vibration of the radiation emitted at a specific wavelength by an atom of cesium-133 but as a mathematician, he looked at it in different terms.

'_One second," he thought in amazement, "1/60 of a minute, 1/3,600 of an hour, or 1/86,400 of a day…this day."_ One second for Schiller to die and quite possibly his own death would come from that same _one_ second. It seemed unfair that such an infinitesimal moment in time should have so much power over life and death. These thoughts raced through his head at a dizzying pace; it was as if his brain knew that it didn't have much time left and it fought back against the inevitable silence that it knew was coming. The numbers abruptly changed to visions of his family and friends and a sensation of loss enveloped him as instantaneous flashes of Larry, his Dad, Don and Amita swirled through his memory.

Charlie felt no pain just a sort of numb shock as he began to fall backwards. His hands were still tied behind his back so he could do nothing to cushion his fall; his head hit the floor so hard that he literally saw stars. The impact drove most of the breath from his lungs, and then he lost what little was left in them when Schiller's lifeless body toppled over on top of him; his limp hand still lying on Charlie's shoulder.

The approaching darkness didn't frighten him anymore; he greeted it like an old friend. Charlie didn't know how many times that he had lost consciousness during the night's horrendous ordeal but he couldn't help but wonder if he would wake up this time. He offered no resistance but welcomed it with open arms; eagerly anticipating its touch. As the darkness encircled him Charlie thought of his brother one last time and a feeling of relief flooded through him; Don was safe now and he could let go and slip into silent oblivion.

As Charlie spiraled downward into the darkness a disembodied voice seemed to follow along with him, and although he didn't recognize the gentle voice of the man that was speaking, he nevertheless found his words oddly comforting.

"_Good night and May God bless"_

_**0**_

Colby flicked his phone shut and gripped the dashboard with both hands as David made a sharp turn off the freeway for the Pasadena exit.

"Nearest LAPD cruiser is fifteen minutes out." He shouted, trying to make himself heard over the loud sirens.

Nikki called from the rear seat. "Ambulance is on the way."

David nodded grimly as he sped through a red light. "What about campus security?" He yelled, daring a glance in his rear view mirror at Liz.

"On their way over." She shouted, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "I told them to make sure they opened the door to the building and had a key to Charlie's office on hand. I also warned them against forcing an entry; don't want the guy to shoot any sooner than he planned to."

"Good." David grunted, holding tightly to the steering wheel as they made the turn for CalSci on two wheels. A minute later they careened into the parking area at the school and raced for the Math building.

"We're not going to make it!" Liz yelled from the back seat as David slammed on the brakes, bringing the SUV to a squealing halt behind Charlie's Prius. The four doors opened simultaneously as the agents rushed from the vehicle and ran at top speed toward the Math building.

Two security guards stood by the door anxiously waiting for their arrival.

"David I just heard Don yell out a warning to your gunman." Grady said as he handed him the key to Charlie's office.

Breathless, the agent nodded and snatched the key from his hand just as two loud shots reverberated around the campus.

"Stay here!" David shouted racing into the building, his team right on his heels.

**.01**

"_Good night and May God bless" _Red Skeleton's signature closing reverberated from the TV just before the lively theme song began to play.

"_That's pretty ironic."_ Don thought distantly, watching Schiller's body topple over. Those were the last words that he expected to hear at a time like this. He pushed the music from his mind just as he blocked out the loud sirens and flashing lights coming from the parking lot; there was only one thing that mattered now and he focused all of his attention on finding Charlie.

The metallic smell of blood and sulfur was something that Don had become accustomed too; both smells often associated with the use of gunfire. But it was the fact that he was experiencing that smell in his brother's office and that there was a very real possibility that some of the blood might actually be Charlie's that had him breathing through his nose to suppress his gagging reflex.

With a trembling hand he wiped the sweat from his upper lip and struggled to his feet; horror- filled eyes locked on the scene before him. Had there been two shots or just one? He wasn't sure. He blinked his good eye rapidly trying to clear his vision; there was too much smoke in the room for just one shot and the way his ears were ringing reinforced his theory of two shots. If that was the case then which one of them had fired first? Had he given Schiller time to shoot his brother before he pulled the trigger?

"Oh, God," he moaned, "I was too late." How else could he explain the lack of movement in front of him? Schiller had fallen between the desk and the wall; Don could see the lower part of his legs and feet sticking out beyond the desk but where was his brother?

"Charlie! " He called out anxiously, staggering toward the desk. In a near panic the agent tried to run, nearly doubling over as a sharp pain sliced across his abdomen. White-knuckled, he gripped the edge of the desk and forced himself to move, edging his way to the back of the desk.

"Charlie!" Don cried out again as he hurriedly looked behind the desk.

Frantically he glanced around in surprise; what the hell had happened to Charlie? His heart lifted a little; maybe he had managed to get out of the way. His eyes skimmed over Schiller's body and he raised his head to check out the office but at the last moment caught sight of a few errant brown curls sticking out from beneath the man's body.

"Oh God!" Don whispered in horror; Charlie was lying underneath Schiller's dead body. Panic-stricken he dropped to his knees and pulled at Ludwig's body. It wasn't easy, especially in his condition, but he didn't care; all that mattered was getting to Charlie. Finally he gave one massive tug and was able to flip Schiller's body over onto the floor but it wasn't without cost.

Don doubled over and wrapped his arms around his middle, moaning in sheer agony as white-hot pains lanced through his chest. He was on all fours now, head bent and eyes squeezed shut, panting against the pain; they seemed to go on forever but in reality only a few seconds had actually elapsed. As he opened his eyes again his hand slipped on the floor and he absently raised it to wipe it on his jeans but stopped when he realized that the palm of his hand was covered with blood. The agent swallowed hard and followed the bloody trail to his brother's body.

"Oh Buddy." Don's voice choked with emotion at the first clear sight that he had of his brother. It looked as if he had literally taken a bath in blood; red stains covered the right side of his face and neck. Charlie's entire upper torso was soaked with the crimson liquid and his head was lying in a pool of blood. His brother lay still and unmoving; no one could lose that much blood and still be alive.

"Charlie. No…no." Don sobbed, frantically feeling for a pulse. His heart seem to catch in his throat when he couldn't find one but he refused to accept the fact that it was too late to save him so he continued to search for a sign that Charlie was still alive. In a blind panic he looked for a wound but there was so much blood that it was hard to determine where it came from and then he remembered that Schiller always shot his students in the back of the head. Reluctantly, Don's eyes drifted to the pool of blood around Charlie's head and he felt his heart shatter; it was true….oh God, it was true!

Ignoring his own pain Don gathered Charlie's limp form in his arms, pulling his head close to his chest so that it rested against his shoulder. Grief-stricken he rested his cheek against his brother's dark curls and closed his eyes as he rocked Charlie slowly back and forth, tears flowing freely down his cheeks; the loss too much for him to bear.

"I'm sorry…so sorry buddy," Don whispered brokenly, "Come back Charlie….please." His chest hurt again only this time the agonizing pain came from deep within his chest; the pains from his cracked rib now paled in comparison to the ones that were ripping apart his heart.

**5:02 a.m.**

David cautiously turned the key then pushed the door open with his foot. He nodded toward the right and Nikki and Liz darted through the doorway, moving quickly to the right side of the room while he and Colby dodged to the left.

Liz moved silently around the couch on the right while Nikki came around the left side just as "Rocket Man" blared forth from beneath the sofa. Liz dropped to all fours and peaked underneath the couch then rose swiftly to her feet as it went silent.

"Charlie's phone." She said quietly.

Almost immediately another phone began to ring and four pairs of eyes darted around the room searching for it.

"Here" Nikki called out moving closer to the table. "Don's phone and his holster." She pointed to the floor beneath the side of the table where two books had been stacked on top of one another. Her eyes drifted over the empty soda cups and a pizza box at the far edge of the table and then downward to Charlie's upended book bag and its scattered contents.

"Don….Charlie!" David called out anxiously, sharing looks of concern with his team as they moved further into the room.

The theme song for "Bonanza "suddenly burst forth from the TV, startling everyone. Colby was the closest one to the set so he quickly turned around and hit the power button. Afterward an ominous silence filled the room and with trepidation they moved closer to Charlie's desk; guns at the ready.

"I have a body." Liz said softly, angling in from the right; stepping over Don's crumpled jacket she moved closer. "It looks like Schiller."

David nodded breathing a little easier. That explained one shot but the second one was beginning to worry him more.

"There's the revolver." Colby exclaimed suddenly, nodding toward the firearm; propelled backward when it fired, the gun had slid across the floor and landed beside one of the white boards.

Puzzled Nikki moved closer to her partner. "If the bad guy is down then where are Don and Charlie?" From their angle the computer stand blocked the view of the floor behind the desk.

David held up his hand, calling for silence. "Listen?" Suddenly he darted around the left side of the desk, scattering the sand and pieces of the hourglass across the floor.

They found them then and the sight brought David to his knees. "Don?" he whispered, unshed tears forming in his eyes. But his friend didn't seem to hear him, he just knelt there, holding Charlie close, sobbing quietly into the dark curls as he rocked gently back and forth.

"David, what….?" Colby started to ask as he joined him. "Oh,God!"" He exclaimed in anguish at the sight of his friends. Muttering "we're too late" under his breath he turned away and angrily punched the wall with his fist.

Liz and Nikki shared anxious looks then rushed around the desk stopping just a few paces behind David.

"D…Don?" Liz whispered her voice thick with emotion. But as with David, Don didn't look up; he didn't even seem to register the fact that they were there at all. Unbidden, tears flowed down her cheeks as she turned away.

Tears in her eyes Nikki clapped a hand to her mouth and staggered backwards. "No…..no…we can't be too late."

David stretched a tentative hand and squeezed Don's shoulder. "Don?"Still no response. He swallowed thickly and stretched his hand toward Charlie's neck to check for a pulse himself; in Don's condition he could have made a mistake but before he could make contact a familiar voice called out from the doorway. His hand fell limply to the floor and he sighed heavily; this was going to be so hard. Slowly he rose to his feet, his shoulders drooping as he raised his head and met the frightened eyes of Alan Eppes. Larry anxiously stood to his right nervously glancing around the room.

"Where ….where is Don ...and Charlie?"Alan demanded fearfully, dread filling his eyes; the color drained from his face as his gaze drifted from agent to agent then finally met David's. After Larry had picked him up and filled him in on what was happening he had tried to call Don and Charlie but neither had answered their phones…and now he feared he knew why.

David holstered his gun and looked away, sniffing and rubbing a finger under his nose before turning back to face the Eppes patriarch. He felt so helpless; there simply was no easy way to tell him about Charlie.

"Alan….uh…..they're over here." He said quietly and stepped aside as a single tear ran down his cheek.

"No!" Alan gasped, shaking his head in denial at David's emotional response. He shuffled forward on numb feet, breathless with an urgent need to see his sons and yet terrified of what he was going to find on the other side of the desk. He braced his hand on the desk as he rounded the corner and froze; the sight of Don rocking his blood-soaked brother shattered his heart.

"Dear Lord!" Larry sobbed behind him then clasped a hand to his mouth, gagging at the sight of his young friend covered in blood. White-faced, he turned quickly, fleeing from the room as the contents of his stomach rose up in his throat.

Alan's keening wail filled the room as he sank to his knees in front of his sons. With tears running down his face he rested his forehead against Don's and circled his arms around his bent shoulders, embracing both of them.

"Donnie," he whispered tenderly, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

Don finally raised his tear stained face and took a shuddering breath as he met his father's grief-stricken eyes. "I…I was too late Dad." He lamented, his eyes full of sorrow. "I should…have shot sooner….but I was afraid that I would hit...Charlie."Don's voice broke and he looked away.

"Shh…shhh…now." Alan said softly, wiping the tears on Don's cheeks; carefully avoiding his swollen eye. "I know….," he began, but had to stop and swallow, "I know…that you did ….everything you could."His gaze drifted downward and a sob escaped his throat as he stretched his trembling arms forth. "Let me hold him….please?"

Don nodded reluctantly then carefully placed Charlie in his father's arms but was unwilling to let him go completely and reached for his hand. It was only then that he remembered that Schiller had bound his brother's hands together. Anger flared within his breast and suddenly nothing was more important than removing the rope that was around Charlie's wrists. He tugged at the knot until it opened and then tucked Charlie's arms safely within his father's embrace.

Alan gazed mournfully at the still form lying in his arms while memories of his youngest son raced through his mind. There were flashes of Margaret holding him at birth, smiling up at him and of a curly haired five year old jumping in his arms when he came home from work, brown eyes alight with excitement as he told him of a new math problem that he had just learned. The memory flashes flew through his school years, and his remarkable achievements at such a young age. But Alan knew that it had been his relationship with his brother that Charlie valued more than anything and he remembered the look on Charlie's face the day that Don had called him his partner; they had overcome their differences and become friends. Charlie had yearned for that his whole life; his expressive brown eyes had lit up with love and pride.

Alan choked back a sob, reality raising its ugly head and pushing his sweet memories aside. How had it come to this? Ever so gently he pushed a red stained curl back from Charlie's forehead and pressed his trembling lips against his skin.

"He still… feels warm." Alan whispered between sobs.

"What?" Don asked brokenly as he took his brother's limp hand in his own. His brows knitted together in puzzlement. "He does feel warm. " But then again he had only been dead for a few minutes. Nevertheless his fingers tightened around Charlie's wrist…and found a pulse.

"Charlie's alive! " Don rasped excitedly, his voice hoarse from yelling at Schiller during the night. Stunned, Alan raised his head in disbelief, afraid that he had misheard his son. "Alive?" he whispered, his lower lip trembling fearfully, still not sure if he was hearing correctly.

"Yes Dad, I found a pulse." Don grabbed for his hand but hissed when a sharp pain jabbed him in the chest; in the throes of grief he had forgotten about his own injuries. Despite the pain he leaned forward and placed an ear over his brother's heart and heard a sound that made his own heart soar.

Don straightened up and gripped his father's hand tightly. "He's alive Dad," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Charlie's heart is beating slowly but it's steady."

Alan couldn't speak; the relief was just too over-whelming. His arms tightened around Charlie and he closed his eyes while he fought to get a grip on his emotions.

"He's what?" David asked, his voice raising an octave. "Don did you say that Charlie is alive?"

Don looked up, his good eye glistening with joyful tears. "Yes. I don't understand….I couldn't find a pulse before but it's there now…..and that's all that matters. We'll need an ambulance."

"Listen." David said, cocking his head to the side. "There's already one on the way but from the way you look I think we're going to need two of them."

Colby, Nikki and Liz suddenly appeared over his shoulder, sharing relieved smiles with Don and Alan.

"I'll go down and show them the way up." Liz volunteered happily as the ambulance siren blared out from the parking lot. She pivoted suddenly and rushed from the room, passing a stunned security guard and Larry who was just coming out of the rest room. Liz halted abruptly and retraced her steps until she was standing in front of Larry. She grabbed him and gave him a fierce hug then set him at arm's length.

"Listen to me Larry." She said, her lips curving upward in a smile. "Charlie's alive!" She waited a moment to be sure that he understood her then turned on her heel and raced down the hallway.

Larry stared after her with a blank expression on his face and then her words suddenly sank in. With a shout of over-whelming joy he turned and raced back into the office.

TBC


	30. Chapter 30

By the Dawn's Early Light

By

1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for your reviews and alerts.

Chapter 30:

Alan closed the door to the stall with a shaky hand and paused momentarily before darting to the sink. "_Thank goodness for small favors,_" he muttered under his breath, grateful that no one else had entered the bathroom while he was throwing up.

He bowed his head and leaned heavily against the sink; his hands tightly gripping the edges of the ceramic bowl while he waited for another wave of nausea to subside. Several minutes passed by before he lifted his head and gazed somberly at his reflection. He barely recognized the hollowed-eyed visage staring back at him; sunken eyes set in a haggard looking face made him appear even older than he was. The events of the last few hours had taken his emotions on a wild roller-coaster ride of fear, heart-wrenching loss and finally a little glimmer of hope.

It had all begun with Larry's phone call and a desperate attempt to get to CalSci before five a.m. They had failed of course, but had arrived only a few minutes later. Larry had briefed him on the case on their way there and his fear had grown with each passing mile. When Don had been stabbed two years ago he thought he had faced his worst fear; his son's job with the FBI put him in constant danger and Alan had always dreaded that _one_ phone call that would tell him that he had been killed but Don had recovered and with time his fears had been pushed aside so that he could move on. But he had never prepared himself for the possibility of losing his youngest son to an act of violence, even though Charlie had experienced a few close calls while consulting for his brother, Alan had always felt that he was perfectly safe at CalSci.

This time it was different though. According to Larry, Charlie had been targeted by another academic, not some criminal, but a former Princeton professor that had experienced a mental breakdown and not only Charlie was in danger but his brother was as well. The thought of losing both of his sons had sent his fears soaring to dizzying heights.

They had arrived before the LAPD and Larry had waved his FBI badge in front of the campus security guards to gain them entrance to Charlie's office. His shoulders shook with fresh sobs and he wiped at his eyes as he remembered the horrific sight that had greeted him.

Donnie was holding his brother and rocking back and forth, his head bowed against Charlie's; sobbing uncontrollably, convinced that he had died. Charlie lay limply in his arms, covered with blood_. _He was still surprised that his own heart had not stopped beating, right there and then. He supposed that it was the fact that Don would need him that gave him the fortitude to reach down deep within himself and find the strength that he would need to face the devastating loss of his youngest; as long as one son remained he would be there for him.

But then, to his amazement, it was discovered that Charlie was alive and hope had raised its head to pull the pieces of his heart back together. Hope was a fragile thing though, as he discovered a few minutes later. Charlie was alive, yes, but his condition was uncertain and Donnie too had been injured and was in need of medical attention.

"_What is that?"_ he thought abruptly, bringing his thoughts back to the present. He squinted and leaned closer to the mirror. There was a smear of dried blood on his cheek and Alan blinked in surprise; he hadn't even realized that it was there.

"Charlie's blood." He whispered in despair, tracing it lightly with a trembling finger. _"What if he doesn't make it?"_ Alan thought fearfully, reluctant to wipe his son's blood away. The Eppes patriarch swallowed hard, tearing up as he thought of how pale his youngest son had looked on the gurney as the doctor's whisked him away.

"Enough of this nonsense. Get a grip old man, your sons need you." he muttered brusquely breaking out of his morbid reverie. Charlie would _live_; he refused to believe the alternative but then almost immediately his resolve crumbled, fears and doubts resurfacing. His lower lip trembled as he turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face. Alan took a deep breath to steady his nerves then grabbed a handful of paper towels to dry off his face and hands. He dabbed a wet paper towel against the blood stains on the front of his shirt and jeans but gave up a moment later and hurriedly tossed the towels in the waste can as he rushed back out to the waiting room.

Alan strode nervously to the nurses' station; he was ninety nine per cent sure that it was too soon to learn anything about his sons' conditions but he was going to check in anyway….just in case.

He stepped up to the counter and leaned over but the nurse was on the phone so he backed away to give her some privacy; sighing he gazed about the room and forced himself to wait his turn.

**Our motto at Huntington Hospital is Here to Stay, Here for You. We hope we can be of service**

"Me, too." Alan muttered anxiously; his eyes drifted from the sign hanging over the nurses' station to the double doors leading to the emergency room.

"I'm sorry sir I couldn't hear what you said. You will have to speak up if you expect me to help you." The stern looking nurse behind the station tapped her pen impatiently on the counter while she waited for Alan to respond. There must have been a shift change, Alan surmised, or the friendly woman that he had spoken to earlier had undergone a major transformation. Instead of the pert little redhead who had occupied the seat when he had first arrived he was facing a woman in her mid to late forties with a demeanor that would give a politician pause. A pair of small squared frame glasses dotted her angular face which was made to appear even more severe by the way her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

Startled, Alan's face reddened when he realized that he had spoken out loud. "Ah, I ah…was just wondering if there was any news on my son's conditions." He stammered anxiously. "Don and…and Charles Eppes."

The nurse tapped a few keys on her computer and then looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry Mr. Eppes," she said, her voice took on a more sympathetic tone, "but it's really too soon for the doctors to know anything. Please have a seat in the waiting room and we'll notify you as soon as they have made their diagnosis."

"Right. Of course." Alan mumbled his shoulders drooping as he shuffled over to a vacant chair. She was right of course, if truth be told, he hadn't been waiting very long; only forty-five minutes had passed since his sons were wheeled behind those double doors but to Alan those forty-five minutes seemed like an eternity. His thoughts drifted back to Charlie's office and the arrival of the EMTs.

"_Sir, please release the patient and move aside."_

_Alan hadn't heard them at first. He was still hoping that he had not misheard Don's words of "I found a pulse" and "he's alive." Then Don had staggered painfully to his feet, nearly stumbling over a body that was lying against the wall, to tell him that he had to let the EMT's help Charlie._

_He nodded reluctantly and with the medic's help laid Charlie gently on the floor. He felt an arm under his elbow and looked up to meet the concerned eyes of David Sinclair. _

"_Let me help you up, Alan." _

_With David's help he rose shakily to his feet and moved out of the way as both Charlie and Don were checked over by the technicians. After that his memory blurred as he and Larry rushed to follow the ambulances to the hospital._ _Don had insisted on riding with Charlie, convincing the medics that he could give them insight on his brother's condition but he had a strong feeling that the technician had only agreed because Don looked like he was going to pass out at any moment._

Alan glanced up suddenly when the outside doors abruptly burst open as another emergency medical team pushed their patient down the hallway through those same double doors. His eyes drifted back to the young woman tearfully trailing the gurney only to be turned away at the double doors by an orderly that directed her to the waiting room. Alan watched sadly, commiserating with her, as she shuffled over to one of the vacant chairs to join the rest of the waiting masses.

Pasadena's Huntington Memorial Hospital was the only trauma center in the San Gabriel Valley and, one of the remaining full service emergency departments in the region. A fact that Alan Eppes was extremely grateful for on this particular Saturday morning as were half the citizens of Pasadena judging from the crowded waiting room.

"Are you feeling okay?" A familiar voice anxiously asked. "Maybe you should see a doctor too?"

Alan lifted his head and blinked in surprise; he hadn't noticed his friend's approach. "I'll be fine Larry just as soon as I know how my boys are doing."

"I brought you some coffee." the astrophysicist said with a frown, holding out a cup for the older man. "It tastes pretty good too." he added as Alan took the cup from his hand. Larry sat down in the vacant chair next to his friend and glanced toward the double doors then briefly at the nurse's station.

"That woman is in need of some serious therapy." He grumbled sarcastically, his eyes lingering on the nurse at the counter. "I just asked her about Don and Charlie and she nearly bit my head off."

"She does seem to have a rather harsh attitude for that type of work." Alan replied with a slight smile, grateful for a little levity.

"Draconian is a word that comes to mind." Larry huffed, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Now Larry, she's probably a very nice lady under different circumstances." Alan advised, trying to cut the woman some slack.

"Perhaps," the professor mused, "but I don't think that I would want to find out."He shifted in his chair so that he could face Alan. "Were you able to get in touch with Amita?"

Alan took a sip of coffee before answering. "Yes. She's trying to get a seat on the next flight out, said she'd call as soon as she's made a reservation."

"And Robin?"

Alan shook his head lightly. "I decided to wait and see what Donnie wanted to do. His injuries aren't as severe as …Charlie's are." His eyes dropped to the floor and he took a sip of coffee to cover his emotional lapse.

They fell into a restless silence, drinking their coffee and watching the double doors then shared a chuckle ten minutes later when Don's team joined them in the waiting room.

"Look," Nikki was saying with a toss of her head, "all I'm saying is that maybe she has a record. It wouldn't hurt to check it out."

Liz rolled her eyes and plopped down in an empty seat across from Alan. "You can't arrest someone because you think they're rude."

"Think?" Colby asked incredulously, with a jerk of his thumb toward the station. "I'm with Nikki on this one. I say we check out _Nurse Ratched_ over there and see what she's got hiding in the closet."

"You see," Nikki said to her partner, "even Idaho agrees with me."

"Her day is not going to get any better either. " David Sinclair announced as he joined them. "I overheard two orderlies talking about a four car pile -up that just happened on the 10. There are multiple ambulances on their way here as we speak."

"Ooh, that poor woman." Nikki deadpanned, prompting chuckles from her friends.

The easy banter between the agents didn't fool Alan; beneath the levity he could see how worried they were. Their joking around was just a way to help them cope with the violence they dealt with on a daily basis, made worse today by the fact that Don and Charlie were involved..

"Have you heard anything yet Alan?" David asked quietly, his tone turning more somber. Anxious looks were exchanged while the agents waited for Alan to respond.

Frantic with worry Alan simply shook his head and looked away; he had to hold it together, his sons needed him.

"Right." David sighed heavily, jamming his hands into his jeans pockets. After a moment's silence he glanced at his teammates." Coffee all around?" Receiving eager nods he turned to leave.

"I'll give you a hand." Colby offered, quickly following him down the hallway.

**000000000000000**

Charlie felt weightless as the darkness enveloped him and as he became one with it, his pain and anguish seemed to disappear. It was as if he could see himself falling, spiraling downward into a world of silence and death.

One time he thought he could hear voices and as he strained to listen his body seemed to rise out of the dark abyss that he had fallen into. It was as if the voices were drawing him toward them, showing him the way home. Charlie thrust his arms upward in an effort to grab their hands for he sensed that he could live if he could touch them. "_Don? Dad?" _He tried to call out but it was as if he no longer had a voice to use.

Suddenly those caring voices were gone and he cried out for them to come back, pleading for them to take his hands but they didn't return. Instead he heard a stranger's voice and blaring noises, followed by the unsettling sensation of constant motion. A sense of pain and fear coursed through him and he recoiled from its touch, falling back into the abyss.

Once again the feeling of peace washed over him and questions began to fill his mind as he floated downward; where was he….what had happened…was this what it felt like when you died? But the questions were only flickering thoughts and flitted away like a leaf blowing around in a gentle breeze.

Abruptly the peaceful feeling ended and instead of floating on the air he found himself wandering through a darkened maze. Part of him knew that it wasn't real, that it was only a dream ….and yet it seemed so realistic. The dream was his world now, his reality. He could reach out and touch the leaves of the hedges that surrounded him and feel a cool breeze on his face as he walked along the path. It was a silent trek, broken only by the sound of the wind as it passed through the hedges or the occasional twig snapping beneath his shoes.

Charlie looked up and could see a full moon and night stars shining above the towering hedges that surrounded him. The moonlight illuminated his way but it also created black shadows that cut across his path leaving him with a feeling of uneasiness. His steps slowed as he approached a fork in the maze; which way should he go… left or right? They both looked the same to him except the left one curved after ten feet and appeared to go downward while the right path remained straight for about twenty feet then inclined upward until it was out of sight. Charlie glanced from left to right trying to find something that he could base a logical decision on.

He sensed movement on the path to his right and he spun on his heel to face it. At first he couldn't see anything but he narrowed his eyes and focused on the far end of the trail. Charlie held his breath and took a step backwards onto the left fork without taking his eyes from the shadowy path in front of him.

Suddenly a person strode into a patch of moonlight; his teeth were bared in a rictus smile and his eyes held a glint of madness to them. Blood ran down the side of Schiller's face as he moved closer and Charlie could hear the unmistakable thud of his cane as it hit the trail.

"No!" Charlie screamed, his eyes widening in terror. "You're dead!"

Imaginary or not the figure was closing the distance rapidly and Charlie saw only one option; without another thought he bolted down the left fork and didn't look back.

**00000000000**

David glanced at his watch; an hour later and they still hadn't heard anything. His eyes flickered over the small group; Liz and Nikki had fallen asleep, the back of their heads resting against the wall. Colby had returned to CalSci to monitor the crime scene and Larry had gone for another cup of coffee. Alan had just returned to his seat after a failed attempt to get to the nurse's station; David's prediction had been accurate, Nurse Ratched as Colby had dubbed her,was busy dealing with an extremely long line of people anxiously filling out insurance forms for the victims of the multi car accident.

"Liz, Nikki." David called out quietly. "Why don't you guys go on home and get some rest?" He suggested when they both opened their eyes. "I'll wait here and get Don's statement. Besides," he shrugged, "they won't let all of us in anyway."

"I suppose your right." Liz said reluctantly, rising to her feet. She moved to Alan's side and leaned over, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Call me if you need anything at all."

Alan patted her hand. "David's right, you should go home. I'll let you know as soon as I hear something."

Liz nodded wearily, stepped aside so Nikki could speak with Alan and then the two agents wove their way through the crowded ER and disappeared from view.

"How are you holding up Alan?" David asked his voice filled with concern. In the years that he had known Don's father he had seen the man deal with some pretty tough situations and had admired the way he had handled them but there was no way that he could have prepared himself for that scene in Charlie's office. Alan Eppes was a tough man but David was still amazed that the older man was still on his feet after finding both of his sons covered with blood. He knew this was hitting Alan hard; he didn't need to see the haunted look in the man's eyes to confirm it.

"I'm fine David." Alan said, lifting his head. "Okay, I'm not fine," he added hastily at the agent's skeptical look, "but I will be as soon as I can be with my sons."

"You're looking a little pale, maybe…"

"Don't even think about asking me to leave or see a doctor because I'm staying right here until I can talk to Don and Charlie." Alan replied adamantly; his dark brown eyes firm and unyielding.

As if on cue an orderly approached them before Sinclair had a chance to offer any argument. The young Hispanic man came to a halt in front of Alan's chair.

"Mr. Eppes?"

"Yes, I'm Alan Eppes." The older man confirmed quickly, his eyes lighting up with hope.

"My name is Carlos," he smiled pointing to the badge on his shirt, "and if you'll follow me I'll take you to see your son."

Alan rose swiftly to his feet. "Which one…Don or Charlie?"

The man's eyebrows rose up in surprise. "You have two sons in the emergency room?"

"Yes," Alan confirmed worriedly, "they arrived together….in the same ambulance."

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "I just came on duty and was unaware of that fact." The orderly glanced down at his clipboard and studied it briefly before looking up. ""We're going to see Don."

David stood up before they could leave and flashed his badge. "I'm Agent David Sinclair and I need to speak with Don Eppes." He turned to face Alan and softened his voice. "I can wait outside until you've had a chance to talk with him Alan. Will that be okay with you?"

"Yeah. Sure." Alan answered hastily, anxious to see his son.

"FBI?" Carlos asked curiously as he led them away. "Why are you so interested in this guy? Did he do something wrong?"

"My son is not a criminal," Alan huffed angrily, immediately coming to Don's defense, "he is an FBI agent."

"I'm sorry Mr. Eppes; I didn't mean to imply that he was." The man hastily apologized.

They threaded their way through the milling crowd but instead of going toward the trauma center they headed for the elevators. The doors slid open and they stepped aside while the people disembarked.

"Larry." Alan called out, spotting his friend among the crowd.

"Are they okay?" The professor asked anxiously as he joined them. "Can we go see them now?"

"Carlos is taking us to see Don," Alan said with a nod toward the orderly, "but I still haven't heard anything about Charlie."

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait here sir. " The orderly said with an apologetic look. "I'm already pushing protocol in allowing the agent to go up with Mr. Eppes."

"I understand." Larry quickly replied." I'll wait here but let me know as soon as you can, okay? "

"I will." Alan called as they stepped on board.

When the orderly pressed the third floor button Alan turned to him in surprise. He was very familiar with the hospital and knew the third floor was only used for people needing further care.

"Has Donnie been admitted?"

"No" he answered as the door opened," but they need all of the trauma center rooms for the victims of that multi-car crash."

"Right." Alan mumbled absently as he and David followed the orderly half way down the hallway to Don's room.

"I'll wait until you're finished Alan." David said quietly, taking up a stance beside the open door.

"Mr. Eppes you have a visitor." Carlos announced stepping aside as Alan rushed into the room.

Don was holding an ice pack over his injured eye but his good eye flickered open as soon as Carlos spoke. "Hey Dad," he murmured sleepily, his voice thick and raspy.

"Donnie how are you? What did the doctor say?" Alan exclaimed as a feeling of relief washed over him. He sat down in a chair next to the bed and gently squeezed Don's hand unable to resist an overwhelming urge to touch him.

"Mr. Eppes I'll check around and see what I can find out about your other son." Carlos said as he left the room.

"Thank you." Alan said without looking around, his eyes glued to Don's face. "How are you feeling?"

"How's Charlie?" Don countered, anxiously searching his father's eyes for an answer. "They….they couldn't wake him up in the ambulance Dad."

"Did they say why?" Alan whispered as a new wave of fear washed over him. His stomach was starting to do somersaults again; his hand shook as he covered his mouth until he could safely swallow the bile that had risen in his throat.

"No, the medics found a bump on the back of his head and thought that might have something to do with it but they couldn't be sure if that was the cause." Don started to rise but winced with pain and pressed a hand to his chest."

"Shh…now. Don't try to move." Alan replied hastily, moving to put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to keep him still. "I haven't heard anything yet son. Hopefully the orderly will bring us back some news." He sighed audibly; it was so like Don to put his brother first. "Please tell me how you are?"

"Nothing that a little rest won't take care of Dad." He gave his father's hand a tight squeeze to reassure him. "I've got a black eye, some minor bruises and I'm pretty sure that I have a cracked rib. As soon as the doctor has a chance to read the x-rays I'll be allowed to leave."

"Thank goodness for that." Alan whispered, expelling a breath of relief. His eyes flickered over his son coming to rest on the dried blood stains covering his shirt and jeans. He swallowed thickly and looked up to meet his son's dismal gaze.

Don was dismayed by his father's appearance; it was as if he had aged ten years in just a few short hours. He didn't want to tell him about last night but after what Alan had seen that morning he wasn't sure if he could keep it from him…..or even if he had the right?

Unshed tears glistened in Alan's eyes and despite his best efforts his lower lip trembled when he asked. "Donnie please...I...I need to know what happened to you and Charlie?"

TBC

Special note to Deanna: "I like to send a personal thank you to my reviewers but I can only do that if they sign in before they post a review. If you sign in this time I'll be able to send you a thank-you otherwise I have no way of contacting you."

A/N: Nurse Mildred Ratched is the main antagonist from Ken Kersey's 1962 novel_ One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_, as well as the 1975 film. A cold, sadistic and passive-aggressive tyrant, Nurse Ratched has become the stereotype of the nurse as a battle axe.


	31. Chapter 31

By the Dawn's Early Light

By

1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Spoilers: Pilot, Convergence, First Law

A/N:Thank you for your reviews and alerts.

Chapter 31:

Charlie stopped to catch his breath, his heart pounding with fear, and glanced at the trail behind him. He cocked his head, listening for the telltale footfalls that would prove Schiller had given chase but only silence greeted him. He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked curls, and then looked at the moisture on his palm in amazement. This _was_ a dream…_right_? Charlie moved ahead at a slower pace this time but he kept glancing over his shoulder every few minutes to make certain the man couldn't sneak up and catch him by surprise. There had been a slight drop off at the beginning of the left path and he had almost fallen in his haste to get away from Ludwig's apparition, but at the last moment had managed to grab a handful of the hedges to stay upright. After that, the path had straightened out and he had been running ever since.

A short time later the young man hesitated when he came upon a crossroads; which way should he go? Straight ahead, to the left or the right? He couldn't explain it but he felt drawn to the right fork…and yet he hesitated. What if that one lead back to Schiller?

Choices? How the hell was he supposed to choose a direction when he didn't have any data to work with? It was an untenable situation, one that could have dire consequences if Ludwig caught up to him so he kept to the same path and walked straight through the crossroads because he didn't want to remain in one place for too long.

Charlie's thoughts dwelled on one word as he traveled through his world of dreams. "Choices," he wondered out loud, "were all of my choices the wrong ones?" According to his old professor he had wasted his gift instead of using it to achieve his full potential.

Larry suddenly shimmered on the trail in front of him and he eagerly hurried forward. The vision was a younger version of his friend and as Larry came to a stop in front of him he began to speak as if he was continuing an on-going conversation; his arms waving animatedly in front of him as he passionately made his point.

"_Charles, many mathematicians do their best work in a very short time period, maybe five to eight years. You have abilities; you could be helping define the nature of reality. Look, all I'm asking is that you just consider how you spend what time you have." _

The vision abruptly shimmered again, vanishing into thin air, once again leaving Charlie alone on the trail. He mused thoughtfully, remembering that discussion now; almost seven years ago at the onset of his work with his brother. Maybe he should have listened to him and turned his back on consulting for the FBI but he had been younger then, and believed that he had a lifetime to make discoveries.

He resumed his trek, mulling over Larry's words and was about to turn a corner in the path when he heard the familiar staccato clacking of chalk against a chalkboard. Charlie slowed his steps and rounded the bend cautiously only to discover his old rival, Marshall Penfield, working at a chalkboard. He looked up at Charlie's approach and assumed an attitude of arrogance as he turned to face him.

"_Eppsey." He purred, using the nickname that he had given Charlie when they had attended Princeton together._

_The young man hated that name and chose to ignore it by glancing at the blackboard. "Are you trying to find a flaw in my work again?" Charlie asked, recognizing his Eppes Convergence theory._

_Marshall gloated. "No, I just like to look at it because it is good math. Besides, my discovery will be bigger than yours because, unlike you, I continue to work in the field." _

_The arrogant smile faded away with the rest of Penfield but Charlie remained still; recalling a conversation that he had with his father that same evening and wasn't at all surprised when Alan appeared before him._

"_You okay, you seem a little, ah….?_ _His father said with a frown._

"_Stressed? Yeah."_

"_Why? What's wrong?"Alan asked, moving closer_

_Charlie sighed heavily. "Marshall Penfield, a fellow Princeton graduate has come here to rip apart five years of my work, and it's made me realize that I haven't focused on anything knew since then. I'm wasting my time working on this stuff for Don."_

"_Oh, come on, you don't mean wasting your time."_

"_You're right, I don't. I'm not wasting my time…it's just that I'm so easily distracted."_

_Alan smiled fondly. "Well, it's more like you're easily fascinated."_

"_I need to devote myself on something significant in my field, important to other mathematicians."_

Alan vanished leaving him alone with his thoughts. That had been the beginning of his Cognitive Emergence theory. There were so many variables that he had to consider in his hypothesis that it was going to take him decades to finish it. His brow wrinkled in puzzlement; when was the last time that he had worked on it? Charlie couldn't remember now; between his family, teaching and consulting he honestly couldn't recall the last time he had thought about it.

Numbers, calculations and theories drifted across his mind as he trotted down the path; absently veering to the left as he encountered another fork in the maze.

**000000000000000**

"I called out, told him to drop the gun or I would shoot, but he ignored me, "Don said, finishing up his account of the night's events, "but when the fifth chime pealed I knew I had to fire. I didn't have a visual of Charlie at the time, but I knew that he was standing directly in front of Schiller, so my only choice was to go for a head shot."

"That was an amazing shot, Don. Think about it; you were injured, one eye practically swollen shut and on top of all of that, you were exhausted." David shook his head in disbelief. "Man that had to be rough." The agent said as he scribbled on his notepad.

With a shake of his head Don looked away. "I was too late, David," he said brokenly, "Schiller shot Charlie before I got him." Don scrubbed a hand through his hair. "You know, I don't think that I have ever been so scared in my life. I was so afraid that I was going to hit Charlie instead of that lunatic that I must have hesitated."

"What happened next?"

"Well, I ah….staggered over to the desk to look for Charlie." Don rubbed the back of his next uncomfortably, reliving the moment again. "I…I couldn't find him at first, then I saw a few of his curls sticking out from beneath the man's body…." His voice trailed off and his eyes seem to fix on a sight that only he could see.

David stopped writing and glanced up; noting the anguish and distant look in his friends' eye he said softly. "You know, ah…. we can finish this later."

Don met his gaze, blinking rapidly, in an attempt to push away the tears that were forming in his eyes. "No, it's better if we get this out of the way. I pulled Schiller's body off of him and checked for a pulse." He coughed to clear his throat before going on. "I don't know how I missed it…I mean, it's not like I haven't done it a thousand times before."

"This was different Don. You were injured, sleep deprived and worried about Charlie. There's no way that you could have been thinking straight, the fact that you missed his pulse is perfectly understandable."

"Maybe." Don conceded, rubbing his forehead. "When I saw the blood pooling around his head, I ….I just knew that I was too late."

"Is that when you rolled him over and picked him up?"

"Rolled him over?" Don's brow furrowed as he recalled the moment. "No….he was already laying face up."

David looked up, pencil poised over the notepad. "Schiller shot his victims in the back of the head, why would he change his M.O. and shoot Charlie face to face?"

"I could hear them talking but I wasn't focused on what they were saying." Don rolled his shoulder, wincing as a sharp pain cut across his chest. "Charlie can be stubborn," he said fondly, the corner of his mouth rising in a slight smile, "knowing him, I wouldn't be surprised if he refused to turn around."

David grinned. "Yeah, you're probably right. I'll make it a point to ask him as soon as I get to see him." His grin faded and he cleared his throat. "You still haven't heard anything on his condition, have you?"

"No… nada," Don whispered slowly, unshed tears welling up in his eyes. "They had him stabilized in the ambulance, David," he let out a slow breath, "but they couldn't wake him up."

"Charlie's tougher than he looks," David said, rising to his feet. "Don't give up on him, Don."

"I'll never give up on him."Don replied fiercely; his dark eyes clouded with emotion.

"Colby, Liz and Nikki were waiting downstairs but I told them to go home," he stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I told them I would let them know as soon as I heard anything."

Don shifted, hissing as another sharp pain cut through him. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

David gave him a puzzled look. "Shouldn't they give you something for the pain?"

"They tried but I refused it."

"That's crazy, man. Why would you do that?" David asked; his eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise.

"David," Don sighed heavily, "I've already been through this with my Dad. It's very simple really; if I take the medication it will make me sleep, and I'm not going to sleep until I know how Charlie is."

"What did the Doctor say anyway?"

Don shrugged dismissively, shifting around to get in a more comfortable position. "No permanent damage, just a black eye and I'm pretty sure I have a cracked rib." He winced and rubbed his side."I'm still waiting for the x-rays to confirm that."

David rubbed the top of his head tiredly. "You may be waiting a while longer; there was a pile up on the 10."

"Yeah, my Dad told me."

"I'll wait downstairs with Larry so if you need anything just let me know," David said, heading for the door.

"You look exhausted too. Maybe you're the one that should go home."

The agent paused with his hand on the door and glanced over his shoulder. "No, not until I know that Charlie is going to be okay."

**000000000000**

Alan shuffled slowly down the hallway toward Don's room. David had caught up to him in the small lounge at the end of the hallway to let him know that he had finished taking Don's statement. That had actually worked out well for him because it had given him a chance to pull himself together before facing his oldest son again. After another trip to the bathroom to empty a stomach that he thought was already empty, he had just managed to get his emotions in check when David showed up.

It had been a shock to his system to learn that Charlie had not only been shot but had also been brutally beaten with a cane. He suspected that Don had left out a few details but at least now when the doctor reviewed his injuries with them it wouldn't be a major shock to him.

Alan paused at the door and took a deep breath before entering. Don looked up as he came in the room and frowned, noting the ashen color of his face.

"You don't look so good, Dad," he said worriedly, "maybe you should lie down? Here," he said, attempting to sit up, "I want to sit in the chair anyway."

"Don't you dare get out of that bed!" Alan boomed loudly, immediately putting a halt to Don's efforts. The elder man was on his last nerve; he hadn't been there to help his sons' face their terror-filled night, but he sure the hell could make certain that Don didn't injure himself any further.

Surprised by the sudden outburst, the agent nodded meekly and leaned back, gapping at his father. Don recognized the telltale signs of panic and realized that Alan had been pushed to the limit; squeezing his eyes shut he regretted giving him any details about Charlie's assault.

There was a light tap at the door and then the orderly entered the room. He greeted Don with a slight nod but spoke to Alan.

"Mr. Eppes, your son Charles has been admitted and if you'll come with me I'll take you to his room. His doctor is going to meet us there in a few minutes."

"I'm coming too," Don piped up suddenly.

"I'm sorry sir; I can't take you out of this room without authorization." Carlos replied sympathetically.

"I'm your authorization," Don said firmly, his brown eyes flashing angrily. "Take me there or I'll find his room on my own; either way I am going to see my brother."

Carlos's was taken aback; he hadn't anticipated this complication. Suddenly his eyes lit up with an idea and he motioned for Don to calm down. "Wait…wait here a minute. I have an idea," he said, rushing out of the room.

Alan noted the tight corners around his son's eyes and the stiff way that he was moving. "Donnie, I think…."

"I mean it, Dad," the agent said, setting his jaw stubbornly.

Carlos returned a few minutes later pushing a wheelchair. "Considering your unique circumstances, Agent Eppes, I was able to convince the doctors to allow you to visit your brother but that's_ only_ if you are in this chair."

"I can live with that." Don grunted, trying to pull himself up.

"Good. Let's get going then."

Carlos helped Don move from the bed to the chair and in less than a minute they were rolling down the hallway toward the elevators. They stepped aboard, and then exited a few moments later onto the 4th floor. Two doors down from the elevator Carlos steered the wheelchair into a room and the Eppes' men finally got their first sight of Charlie since they had arrived at the hospital.

The room was empty except for the young man lying in the hospital bed; he was turned on his side, facing the doorway, eyes closed as if he were sleeping. Mercifully, all of the blood had been washed away and his blood-stained clothes had been replaced by a crisp, white hospital gown.

Alan hesitated in the doorway, blinking his eyes rapidly to clear vision as an image of Charlie's blood-soaked form suddenly flashed through his mind. He shook his head and rubbed his temple to clear the disturbing vision, then shuffled forward until he was standing next to the bed.

Carlos skillfully wheeled Don into the room, turning the chair sideways so that the agent could touch his brother without having to stretch his arms very far.

"The Doctor should be here soon and if you need anything just ring for the nurse." He said indicating the remote lying on the bed next to Charlie's hand. "Agent Eppes, I'll come back later to return you to your room."

Don nodded his thanks, his eyes focused on his brother, as Carlos quietly left the room.

"Charlie?" he said softly, but he received no response.

Alan leaned over and tenderly pushed a few curls back from his face and frowned. Carefully he placed the back of his hand against his son's forehead and cheek.

"What is it, Dad?" Don asked, noticing his father's movements.

"I think he's running a slight fever," Alan muttered worriedly.

Charlie's body twitched suddenly; his brow furrowing in pain and although they could see eye movement beneath his closed lids, they never opened. A slight whimper escaped his lips and his breathing appeared labored for a few seconds before returning to a steady rhythm. The light blanket covering him had slipped down over his shoulders and his body shivered slightly.

Alan moved around to the other side of the bed to pull it back up again but he froze with the edge of the blanket in his hand at the sight of Charlie's battered body. The back of his gown gapped open, revealing rows of black and blue weal's, some darker than others; white bandages dotted his back where some of the canes' strokes had broken the skin.

"Oh, my poor, poor boy," Alan whispered brokenly, his hand clasped over his mouth. Even though Don had told him about the beating Schiller had inflicted on Charlie, he was not prepared for the sight before him.

"Dad?" Don asked anxiously, as a tear rolled down his father's cheek. He knew all too well what Alan was seeing; his stomach lurched as he recalled the bruises on the body of Alicia Brogan. He ducked his head, a wave of grief washing over him at the sight of the horrified look in his father's eyes. He blamed himself for this; he was an agent for God's sake, he should have been able to prevent this from happening.

"I'm okay," Alan replied hastily, wiping at his cheek. He gently pulled the blanket up to Charlie's shoulder, careful not to disturb the pillows that had been placed down the length of his body to prevent him from rolling over on his back. His face was strained as he made his way around the bed to stand beside of Don; thoughts of the pain that his youngest had been forced to endure racing through his weary mind.

"I'm sorry…..so sorry Buddy," Don whispered, his face twisted with emotion; his fingers curled around his brother's limp hand and he gave it a gentle squeeze. He felt Alan's hand on his shoulder and he raised his head to meet his father's eyes.

"This isn't your fault Donnie," Alan said softly, knowing full well the meaning behind Don's grief-filled words.

Don nodded, letting his gaze drift back to the prone form of his brother with mixed emotions. He was grateful for his father's forgiveness but knew in his heart that he didn't deserve it.

The sound of someone clearing their throat gave the two men a second to compose themselves before a man and a woman entered the room.

"Mr. Eppes?" The gentleman asked, his eyes drifting from Alan to Don and then finally settling on Alan. "I'm Dr. Rosenberg.

"I'm Alan Eppes," he replied, "and this is my other son, Don."

Rosenberg gave them each a nod then waved his hand toward the end of the bed. "I need you to step back for a few minutes so that I can examine your other son."

"Of course."Alan replied hastily, grabbing the handles of the wheelchair and pushing it to the side of the room. They watched in silence as the doctor clicked on a small pen light and lifted one of Charlie's eyelids, flashing the light into the pupil and then repeated the process for his other eye. He pulled a stethoscope from his pocket and pulled Charlie's gown down so that he could check his heartbeat. Frowning, he turned to the nurse and spoke so softly that Don and Alan couldn't hear what he was saying. She nodded once and quickly left the room; two pairs of dark brown eyes tracked her to the door, and then glanced briefly at one another before turning their focus back to the doctor.

Rosenberg picked up the clipboard that he had been carrying but had only scribbled a few notes on it before the nurse returned pulling an IV bag on a pole. He stood aside while she connected the IV to Charlie's wrist and adjusted the drip then handed her the clipboard before she left the room.

"I ordered a Vancomycin IV for your son," he explained," an antibiotic. This should prevent any infection from his wounds and also, help guard him against anything infectious that might be transmitted through the blood that he absorbed." He paused, letting his eyes run over Don and Alan's clothing. "The enormous amount of blood that he was covered in wasn't his and since I don't have any data on that person I don't want to take any chances." He motioned toward their clothing. "If both of you were exposed to the same blood then you will also need to take an antibiotic."

"I already have a prescription for one," Don advised him, "but Dad hasn't seen a doctor."

"Mr. Eppes, when we're finished here, I'll arrange to have you checked out." Before Alan could open his mouth to protest, Rosenberg's eyes darted back to Don. "What happened to the other victim, the one that lost so much blood?"

"Dead," Don answered grimly, "and on his way to the morgue."

"Of course, with that much blood loss he couldn't have survived," he murmured thoughtfully. "How quickly can you get me a copy of the lab reports on his blood? I may need to prescribe a stronger antibiotic if anything shows up in the report. The sooner, the better. If I can get him started on it before it shows up in his system, he'll have a better chance of fighting it."

"I'll call as soon as we're finished here."

Charlie moaned; the lines around his eyes tightened and the muscles in his cheek twitched spasmodically.

"He's in a lot of pain," Alan whispered hoarsely.

"Yes, he is." The doctor agreed sympathetically."Your son was beaten with a cane, and while this is very painful it is not a life-threatening injury. It looks bad at the moment but I believe the wounds will heal with very little scarring. He was also shot but it's a superficial wound; Charles was very lucky that the bullet just grazed his right side. We discovered a small lump on the back of his head leading us to believe that he received some sort of blunt force trauma to that area."

"Charlie fell backwards and hit his head on the floor," Don said, "then his attacker fell on top of him when he was shot."

"That would support the injury." Rosenberg agreed thoughtfully.

Alan cleared his throat, fearing the answer to his next question. "What aren't you telling us?"

Rosenberg dropped his gaze to the sleeping man then raised his eyes. "We can't wake him up," he said simply. "We've taken scans and x-rays and can find no physical explanation to explain why he remains unconscious. His EEG's show an enormous amount of activity, which I suspect is normal for him, and we haven't seen any symptoms' suggesting that he suffered any type of brain trauma."

"Is he in a coma?" Don asked quietly.

"Not yet." The doctor shook his head. "Technically speaking, a person has to be in an unconscious state for six hours before they are classified as being in a coma. Charlie has been unconscious for only three."

"I…I don't understand," Alan said, clearly confused. "Why won't he wake up?"

Rosenberg addressed Don. "I have a theory, but it would be helpful if I knew how your brother received his injuries."

Don's eyes darted to Charlie and back again, he took a deep breath, and then repeated the night's events for Dr. Rosenberg.

"I suspected as much but I wanted to be sure before I said anything. I believe we're dealing with a severe case of post traumatic stress. Charlie suffered so much pain and torment during the night that he doesn't want to face it again and by remaining unconscious he can keep it at a distance. Unfortunately, the pain that he is experiencing is a reminder of what he will have to face when he wakes up, but we can't give him any stronger pain medications because that would put him in an even deeper sleep."

"Are you sure about this?" Don asked anxiously.

"At this point I can't be sure of anything but I have seen other cases that were very similar to your brothers."

Alan moved closer to the bed, his eyes locked on his son. "What can we do?"

"Talk to him, touch him, let him know that you're here." Rosenberg said firmly. "Let him know that the ordeal is over and that it is safe to return. I believe that if you do that he will hear you and wake up."

A hopeful look lit up Alan's eyes. "We'll do whatever it takes doctor."

"Good." Rosenberg nodded, turning to face Don. "I'll tell your doctor that he can find you here and I'll have them bring in a more comfortable chair for you Mr. Eppes." He turned to leave then paused. "Look, I don't want to give you any false hope. There's no guarantee that this will work so you need to understand that the longer he remains unconscious, the greater his chances are of slipping into a coma."

Alan nodded and drifted back to Don's side, feeling the need to have him close. Don gripped his hand tightly and met the doctor's eyes.

"We understand," he said hoarsely, his voice thick with emotion.

**00000000000000**

Charlie relaxed a little as he ran; he hadn't seen any recent signs of Schiller so he suspected that his analysis had been correct. As long as he avoided taking any paths that veered to the right, he should be able to avoid any further contact with the man. The air shimmered in front of him and he came to a stop while it coalesced into human form; the visions no longer frightened him, instead they offered a respite to his silent, lonely journey.

Jane Karellen, a woman that he had met from the Dept of Defense, suddenly stepped from the shadows. She sauntered closer, weighing and measuring him before speaking.

"_Charles, have you ever wondered what you could do with unlimited resources?"_

"_Haven't we all?"Charlie asked lightly._

"_I have unlimited resources and you are, conservatively speaking, one of the top five minds in the world today."_

_Slightly embarrassed, he joked. "Top Five?" _

"_You are running out of time to make your work on cognitive emergence into the seminal theory of our lifetime."_

"_You know my work."_

_Jane moved closer, putting her hands on his shoulder as she gazed deeply into his eyes. "Five years to change the world Charles, not too much to ask, or give to your country_."

The woman shimmered and vanished but her words seem to echo in his ears. Should he have taken her up on the offer? Charlie could only imagine what he might have accomplished if he had answered yes.

Had Schiller been right along? Was he being selfish because he put his family first or enjoyed teaching and consulting for the FBI? Should he leave all of that behind so that he could focus strictly on research?

There was another side to this as well, Charlie thought darkly. Was he a danger to his family and friends by following his own heart? Don had nearly been killed because of his choices, and he had no guarantee that it couldn't happen again if he didn't change. The next time his brother might not be so lucky or it might be his wife, father or one of his friends that would be put at risk because he had chosen to be with them.

Of course, he still could accept Jane's offer, she still sent emails asking him to reconsider his decision but that wasn't going to happen unless he could find a way out of the maze.

Charlie started forward again and came across another crossroads. Somehow he knew the way out was to the right and if he really wanted to get out of the maze, he would have to follow that path. He took several steps along the trail and suddenly doubled over with pain. Charlie gasped for breath and crawled his way back to the crossroads. Immediately the pain subsided and he slowly rose to his feet, staring wide-eyed at the path before him. Swallowing hard, he turned to the left …maybe he should take a little more time to think things through.

TBC


	32. Chapter 32

By the Dawn's Early Light

By

1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1:

Spoilers: Convergence, Angels and Devils, Greatest Hits, Rampage, Hot Shot

A/N: Thank you very much for your support of this story. I truly appreciate your reviews and alerts.

Chapter 32:

"Oh my! That's not optimal," Larry cried, his voice raising an octave as he clasped his hands to his cheeks in dismay. "How are we supposed to reach him?"

Alan rubbed the back of his neck tiredly and slumped into the chair next to his friend. "Talk to him, touch him, try to get him to hear us. I know it sounds kind of crazy but according to Dr. Rosenberg, Charlie's sense of hearing will be heightened because he's not really utilizing his other senses right now.

"I believe it is also referred to as an altered state of consciousness." Larry mused. "It is also said that when a person is dying, hearing is the last faculty to deteriorate." Noting Alan's horrified look the cosmologist hastily added. "Not that Charles is dying of course, he…..he's just in a deep sleep, that's all."

David leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Wait…let me get this straight. He's not in a coma but they can't wake him up?"

"Right. A person has to be unconscious for six hours before they are classified to be in a comatose state; Charlie's only been unconscious for two and a half hours."

"What happens after six hours?" Larry asked nervously.

"In six hours," Alan replied, sighing heavily, "if we haven't been able to wake him, Dr. Rosenberg will have him placed on a respirator and other equipment necessary to keep him alive."

"Why don't they do that now?" David asked quietly, leaning back in his chair.

"If I understood him correctly," Alan said, "at this moment Charlie's still considered to be in a light sleep state, one in which he could wake up from, but in a deeper sleep his body and mind will become so relaxed that he could forget to breathe."

"Rosenberg really believes this will work?"

Alan's face fell; his eyes darting to the side before flickering back to the agent. "David, I...I think that he believes it's a long shot, but it's better than doing nothing."

Larry jumped up anxiously. "How can we help, Alan?"

"Rosenberg just took him away for another test so I thought I'd run home, take a quick shower and change. Donnie left some clothes at the house so I'll bring those back for him along with some of Charlie's favorite music," Alan said, and then shifted his gaze to David. "I was hoping that you could stay with Donnie until I get back. He's waiting in Charlie's room….and…I …I just don't want him to be alone right now."

"Sure thing, Alan," the agent answered tiredly as he rose slowly to his feet.

Alan nodded gratefully and followed him up. "Thanks David, he's in room 416." He turned eagerly to Larry and tapped his forearm. "Come on, I want to get back before they return Charlie to his room."

**00000000000**

The more left turns Charlie made the more relaxed he became; fear, pain and loss were growing more and more distant. Cognitive thought was becoming increasingly more difficult for him to maintain and at times he would completely lose his line of thought.

Charlie stretched his right arm out, idly sliding his fingers across the leaves of the hedges as he walked by them. The moonlight was dimming and there seemed to be more, deeper shadows on the path than he had encountered before. He lifted his head and gazed skyward; the moon was still there but not as bright as it had been and many of the stars had grown dimmer too. That didn't make any sense to him at all. If night was deepening then the moon and stars should be getting brighter, not dimmer, or if morning was approaching and the moon and stars were dimming, then the sky should be getting lighter, not darker…._right?_

The young man lowered his head; his eyes drifting over the surrounding maze. _"What was I_ _just thinking about?"_ He scratched his chin thoughtfully for a moment then shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly as he resumed his trek_. ""Oh well, I guess it wasn't very important."_

He yawned tiredly and rubbed his eyes in an effort to clear them as he stumbled along the trail. Maybe he could find somewhere to take a short nap, for some reason he knew that he didn't want to stay in one place for too long….only… he couldn't remember why?

**000000000000**

"Easy now," Alan warned; helping Don settle back in the wheelchair.

Don winced, murmured his thanks and shifted his position slightly so that he could easily grasp one of his brother's hands. His x-rays had been reviewed and his doctor had finally confirmed what he had been saying all along only with a slight twist; he had two cracked ribs instead of one. Alan had filled the prescription for the pain killers that had been prescribed by his doctor but he had yet to take any of them, still determined not to sleep until Charlie was awake.

Don had been officially released from the hospital but had been allowed to remain in the room with his brother in the hope that he and Alan could rouse the younger man out of his stupor. He had almost regretted letting his father help him clean up and change his clothes; Alan's face had drained of color when he caught sight of the scar on Don's abdomen. The stabbing incident had almost cost him his life and was a constant reminder of how fragile life really was.

"Donnie, you should try and eat some more." Alan urged, holding up the Styrofoam container for him so that he could reach it.

The agent picked up his coffee cup but waved away the rest of the food. He didn't have much of an appetite, even though he hadn't eaten since the day before. Neither did Alan; between the two of them they had only managed to eat one piece of toast.

Charlie stirred, murmuring fitfully in his sleep; both men looked up hopefully but his expressive brown eyes never opened. Alan rose and shuffled around the bed to pull the covers up over his youngest before the cool air made him shiver. The sight of the lacerations on his back nearly made him lose the little toast that he had eaten but he was determined to keep it down so he swallowed hard and focused on trying to wake his son.

"Donnie, could you push the play button again."

"Sure Dad."

Almost immediately the small room was filled with the music of "The White Stripes", a blues-rock duo that was a favorite of Charlie's.

"Charlie, listen, this is one of your favorite songs," Alan said, gently squeezing his son's shoulder. Receiving no response he sighed and patted his arm softly before returning to his chair.

"Come on Chuck, wake up." Don called out, giving his brother's other arm a shake, but like his father he received no response.

Alan squeezed one of Charlie's hands. "I spoke to Amita when I was at home," he said with a sideways glance toward Don."She finally got a seat on an early flight but after take-off they had to return to the airport because of engine problems. Poor girl is really frantic… her next flight won't arrive until noon." He patted Charlie on the knee. "Did you hear that Charlie? Amita is coming home to see you, so you have to wake up now."

"You should have seen him last night Dad." Don said quietly, squeezing Charlie's hand. "He stood up to Schiller…he deliberately baited him even though he knew the man would beat him for it."

"Why?" Alan exclaimed, his shock-filled eyes widening in surprise. "Why would he do something like that?"

"For me," Don whispered brokenly, looking away. "Charlie did it so that he could get me the key to my handcuffs. The whole night that lunatic threatened him …but he was more worried about me." He met his father's eyes as a tear ran down his cheek. "He was trying to protect me Dad…and I….I couldn't help him."

**000000000000000**

Charlie turned the corner and came to a dead end; blinking in surprise he turned in a full circle. He'd have to back track if he was going to find a way out…but he was so tired; maybe this would be a good place to take a nap. It became darker and he glanced upward; the moon and stars had all but disappeared.

"Charlie?"

He gasped in surprise and twirled around to face the voice. Charlie held his breath then cautiously took a step closer to the vision.

"Mom?"

Margaret Eppes stepped up to her son and cupped his cheek lovingly; she inclined her head and stared into his eyes. "You can't stay here sweetie."

"I've missed you." Charlie replied with an ache in his heart. He swallowed hard; if he touched her would she disappear?

She answered that question for him by taking his hand in hers. Margaret turned and walked toward the path, pulling him along beside of her.

"You have to leave now sweets; you don't belong here yet."

"But Mom," Charlie pleaded, "you don't know what happened. I'm safer here."

She pulled him out onto the path then turned and met his gaze. "Think Charlie? You've faced bullies your whole life and you have never let them stop you from doing what you wanted to do so why is this one any different?"

"Ah…hmm," he closed his mouth, suddenly at a loss for words. "Well…ah…what if he's right?"

"Charlie," she tisked, leading him along the path. "It isn't important what he thinks or anyone else for that matter. It's your life…your decisions."

His thoughts were becoming clearer the further they got away from the dead end; the fatigue not quite so over-whelming as it had been. The path grew lighter and he looked up as the moon and stars grew brighter, chasing the darker shadows from the trail.

Pausing at a juncture of two paths Margaret released his hand and turned to face him once again. She smiled fondly at him and caressed his cheek gently.

"It is time for me to leave sweetie," she said sadly. "You must make your own way from here."

"But…but I don't want you to leave." Charlie cried in dismay, his dark brown eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I am always with you Charlie," she said, resting her hand lightly on his chest, over his heart. Margaret gazed deeply into his eyes, her voice low and soothing. "Listen," she said, tilting her head slightly.

A strange rumbling sound arose in the distance and he cocked his head as he tried to identify it.

"You are not alone," Margaret said softly, stepping away from him. "Your father and brother are calling to you Charlie….. listen to their voices."

"Mom!" He cried out suddenly as she vanished from sight, but it was too late; once again, he stood alone on the path.

**0000000000000**

"You were handcuffed to a chair Donnie," Alan said quietly, his voice thick with emotion, "there wasn't much that you could do. You can't blame yourself for what happened. "

Don's eyes flashed angrily. "I've been trained to handle situations like this Dad…I should…have been able to help him."

"You did help him, son." Alan said, trying to reason with Don. "As soon as you were free you stopped Schiller from," he swallowed hard before saying the dreaded word, "_killing_ Charlie."

Don rubbed his chin, staring forlornly at his brother's sleeping form. "I felt so helpless Dad," he confessed brokenly. "You don't know what it was like. I had to sit there and watch Schiller beat him…. knowing that I couldn't prevent it." Don swallowed bile at the memory. "It was the hardest thing that I've ever had to do." Tears ran down his cheeks as he turned to face his father. "You would have been proud of him Dad. I can still see him, raising his chin defiantly…..refusing to cry out or beg for mercy. I …I was so …so proud of him….." Don's voice trailed off as he wiped at the tears on his face.

"I'm proud of both of you Donnie," Alan whispered thickly, trying to wrap his head around the image of his youngest son's defiant stand and the position Don had been forced to take. It was a role reversal of sorts and one that he hoped he would never live to see again.

**0000000000000**

Charlie took a deep breath and turned right, his thoughts becoming more coherent with each step that he took. Another right…left…right again…..three more times he found himself facing dead ends. He retraced his steps, took a right turn, and found a path lined with stacked boxes.

The young man's steps slowed as he recognized his own equations written all over the cartons; his Cognitive Emergence theory. He traced them lightly with his finger, following their progress from box to box. He noticed a few cartons out of place so he began to rearrange them, like he was putting the pieces of a puzzle together.

**00000000000000**

Dr. Rosenberg strode into the room, startling both Alan and Don from their thoughts. He stopped at the foot of the bed and picked up the clipboard hanging there; perusing it quickly before addressing the Eppes men.

"Have you noticed any changes….any signs that he might be responding to you?"

"No," Alan replied quietly at the same time Don shook his head negatively.

"I need the two of you to move aside for a few minutes so that I can check his condition."

Alan rose quickly and pulled Don's chair out of the way. They watched quietly as the doctor once again flashed a light in Charlie's eyes then checked his pulse. He scratched a few notes on the clipboard then returned it to its place at the bottom of the bed.

"I'm sorry," he said sympathetically, "but I see no change in his condition." His eyes drifted to his watch and then back again. "We knew that this was going to be a long shot, sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't."

"It hasn't been six hours yet." Alan said hastily, his eyes pleading for more time.

Don nodded anxiously. "We still have an hour left."

Rosenberg saw the desperate looks in their eyes; no one wanted to see a loved one attached to a respirator.

"Very well," he conceded, "one more hour then we'll have to proceed. His condition could change rapidly so we have to be prepared."

"Of course." Alan said quietly, his fingers tightening on the handles of the wheelchair.

"I'll be back in an hour then," The doctor said, then left the room.

Alan pushed Don's wheelchair over to Charlie's bedside and pushed his own chair closer to the bed. He leaned over the bed and unnecessarily smoothed his son's hair back from his face.

"Charlie," he pleaded, a desperate edge to his voice, "please...please wake up!"

Don grabbed his brother's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Open your eyes Charlie!"

**000000000000**

"What?" Charlie paused with his finger on one of the cartons. Had someone called his name?

His heart quickened maybe his mother had returned. He strode rapidly to the end of the path and turned the corner but it lay empty before him.

"Charlie?"

There is was again; he quickened his pace, eager to put a name to the mysterious voice. He hit a dead end, then turned back and made another right. Near the end of the next path he saw a shimmering light and his father suddenly appeared before him. It was his father's voice that he had heard and as he drew closer he heard his own voice carrying on the same conversation that he had recalled earlier, only this time he remembered the comment that Alan had made after his.

"_I need to devote myself on something significant in my field, important to other mathematicians."_

"_Do you know what I think Charlie? I think your life's work should be what you want it to be."_

The vision shimmered and vanished but his father's words had lifted his heart. How could he have forgotten them? He walked faster, turning right at another crossroad without any hesitation this time but had to backtrack when another dead end popped up. Frustrated, he turned back and made a left then another right. As he turned the next corner another shimmering light appeared on the path before him. This time it coalesced into Larry and he remembered one of their many discussions. Charlie had been lamenting the fact that he had just turned thirty and was worried about making anymore new discoveries.

"_Listen, listen, Paul Erdos published more than 1500 papers, he died, literally at the chalkboard at age eighty-three." Larry said, smiling fondly at him. "Come on…you haven't seen your best years yet, Charles."_

Larry shimmered and vanished but his encouraging words spurred him on as he traveled through the maze. His thoughts drifted to Jane Karellen and her offer from DARPA and as he turned another corner Don shimmered into view. He recalled their conversation and realized that at that point he had decided to turn down her offer.

"_Hey...so, what do you think about that DOD offer?"_

_Charlie shrugged his shoulders. "Five years of unobstructed research, unlimited funds….what do you think?"_

"_I'm sure it's a good offer." Don said, sticking his hands in his pockets._

"_But..?" Charlie asked._

"_You know…I think it's interesting how much Larry doesn't like her."_

_Charlie countered. "You don't like her."_

_Don inclined his head. "I think you can do better."_

"_For instance?"_

_Don smiled then, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Today's FBI?"_

That had been his defining moment, learning that Don didn't want him to leave. His feet fairly flew across the trail powered by a strong desire to be with his family. Don's voice echoed in his mind, memories from another time and place.

"_I don't know about the whole destiny thing. You've had it pounded into your head since you were a kid. Why don't you just do what you want, on any given day, okay? Just live a little."_

He had taken his brother's advice and had embraced life, not just his work. He was happy with the life he had chosen and wanted to get it back.

Charlie turned the next corner at a run and came to an abrupt halt; he was at a fork in the road. The left trail looked as if it dipped down and the right one ….the one that he knew he had to take, wasn't empty.

Schiller's ghostly apparition was there, walking back and forth across the path like a guard protecting the castle gates. He held his cane as if it were a sword; prepared to strike down anyone who dared to enter.

**00000000000**

Alan's face blanched as the door opened and an orderly entered pushing a piece of equipment on a small table with wheels. He glanced frantically at Don. "It hasn't been an hour yet…has it?"

Don shook his head. "Not yet, Dad. We have fifteen more minutes." He glanced at the orderly as he left the room. "They're just getting set up."

"Charlie!" Alan cried louder, shaking his son's limp arm. "Wake up son. We're running out of time."

Don squeezed his eyes shut; he was getting a gut feeling and he didn't like what it was telling him. ""I'm scared Dad."

"What…what do you mean?"

Without letting go of his brother's hand Don opened his eyes; swallowing hard he turned to face his father. "I'm afraid that if they hook him up to all of that equipment Charlie will never find his way back."

000000000000

Charlie didn't know why but he had a sudden sense that he was running out of time; if he didn't get out of there soon, he never would. But his path was blocked by a lunatic and he was afraid of him. Was he never going to free of this man? Charlie stepped back and watched him warily.

"Are you just going to stand there and let him kill you, the way he killed me?"

Stunned, Charlie turned on his heels and met the eyes of his friend, Thomas Hill. "Tom," he cried, leaping forward to embrace the man but his arms passed right through him. Dismayed he stepped back and stared sadly at his friend. "I'm sorry, Tom," he said, tears welling up in his eyes.

"This isn't your fault, Charlie. There is only one person who is at fault and that's Schiller." His eyes tightened with anger as he gazed at Ludwig. "He had no right to take my life!"

"No, he didn't." Charlie agreed sadly.

"Or yours," Tom said, shifting his gaze back to Charlie. "But if you don't get out of here soon, you will become another one of his victims."

"He's dead too, Tom. Isn't he?" Charlie asked, glancing at the figure on the path.

"If he's dead then what are you afraid of?"

Charlie shook his head. "I...I don't know. I'm just afraid to get near him."

A light suddenly shimmered next to him on the path and Charlie looked up to meet the loving gaze of his father.

"_You know, fear is a very practical feeling, Charlie." Alan said his worried eyes glued to his son's face. "It's …ah…its mostly common sense, telling you not to poke the alligator with the stick."_

_Charlie stared up at the vision of his father; he remembered this conversation now. It had been after a shooting had occurred in Don's office and a bullet had missed his head by only a few inches._

"_Hey Charlie, do you remember that fight you had with Sam Titchell?"_

"_How could I forget him? He terrified me all through the third grade." Charlie replied, rembering how the conversation had gone. "I had to wait for Don every day to walk me home from school."_

"_Yeah," Alan agreed, "and the one day Don didn't walk you home?"_

"_I got into a fight with Sam Titchell, right in the Myers front yard."_

"_Yeah, I know. I was standing at the window, watching. I saw him knock you down from behind but I didn't come out to help you."_

"_Yeah, you did. You broke us up."_

_Alan shook his head. "Eventually, but not right away. You see Charlie you were always so loved, always so protected. It was at that moment that I wanted you to understand that the world was not always going to be a safe place." Alan paused, studying his son's face. "I came outside to help you only when you started to fight back because that's when I knew that you had enough heart to take whatever life was going to throw at you_."

As Alan vanished Charlie took a deep breath and glanced at Schiller. He broke out in a sweat; that path was his way out but how did he get by Ludwig.

_Don suddenly shimmered beside of him, eyes strong and unyielding. He leaned close and put his hand on his shoulder. _

_Charlie looked him in the eyes and swallowed. "So…what do I do...now?"_

"_Go with your gut," he said, giving Charlie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "Go with your gut buddy."_

"Don't go Don!" he shouted as the image disappeared. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, gathering his strength, and then opened them with a strong resolve to get past Schiller. He took a step forward then glanced back to see if Tom was still there.

"Go; get out of here, Charlie." Tom said smiling. "You still have a life…..go live it."

"I'll miss you Tom," He said quietly, then turned and strode deliberately down the path. The pain started almost immediately but he didn't fear it now; it was proof that he was still alive.

Schiller screamed and placed himself fully in the middle of the path. He raised the cane over his head and shook it at his former student.

Charlie began to run; nothing was going to stop him now. "You're not REAL!" he shouted, flinging his arms out in front of him. He was almost on top of the man so he tried to brace himself for the impact…..but instead of running into Ludwig….he passed right through him! Schiller had no substance; he was just like Tom, a figment of his imagination. Giddy with relief, Charlie stumbled slightly, but managed to keep his feet. He glanced over his shoulder and grinned at the sight of the empty trail then focused on the path in front of him and hurried forward.

The path began to slope upward, becoming steeper and more difficult to maneuver but the young man refused to let it slow him down. He set his jaw in grim determination and struggled up the incline until finally he saw an opening beyond the maze. The sight fueled him to move faster and a few minutes later he left the dark, oppressing hedges behind him.

Free…he was finally free of the maze; arms spread wide, he twirled around in a circle, relishing the moment. Suddenly he found himself floating again, only this time he was going up. The stars and moon had disappeared but he could see the light growing brighter above him. Charlie stretched his arms upward, hope filling his heart.

There were sounds all around him now, music and voices vying for his attention. Feeling returned and with it pain, and he recoiled, then he sensed the gentle touch of hands and longed to wrap his fingers around them. Despite the pain, Charlie reached for those hands because he knew they would bring him back. He was close, it was almost as if he could see his fingers only inches from one of the hands, then just as he was about to touch it… …. the hand vanished..

Panic-stricken, Charlie cried out, _"Nooooo_!"

Frantically he clawed at the invisible barrier that separated him from the vanishing hands. He felt himself slipping, sliding back down to the dark maze; fear gripped his heart because he knew with a certainty that if he fell, he would never find his way out again….this time it would be forever.

**00000000000**

"It's time Mr. Eppes." Dr. Rosenberg announced as he entered the room.

Alan stood up slowly and gently released his son's hand. "Please, can't you give us just a little more time?"

The doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry. Please move the wheelchair out of the way so that we can proceed."

Don's heart fell as Alan began to move the chair and his fingers parted from his brother's hand. He glanced at his Charlie's face and caught his breath; he wasn't sure but he thought his expression had changed…, just before he let go of his hand. It wasn't there now but what if…?

"Noooo!" Don shouted, lunging forward. He stumbled out of the chair, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and fell against the bed clutching Charlie's hand to his chest before his father could pull him away.

"Donnie!" Alan cried out in alarm. "This isn't helping your brother."

"Dad, look…look at his face!" Don said urgently, his voice choking with emotion. "He's trying to come back….look!"

"What?" Alan asked in surprise, hope and fear reflecting in his eyes. He leaned over Don and grabbed Charlie's other hand, his eyes glued to the young man's face.

**00000000000**

Charlie sobbed with relief when he suddenly stopped falling; gripping the barrier with both hands he held on for dear life, then hand over hand, he struggled upward; his eyes fearfully searching for something that he could hold onto.

Wait…what was that above him…..was it possible? Charlie swallowed thickly, suddenly over-whelmed with emotion. They were back…he could see them now, not one, but two hands reaching down to grasp his. People were calling to him too, and he recognized the voices of Don and his father urging him to open his eyes, then a wave of warmth and love washed over him as he realized who those hands belonged to.

Charlie struggled forward, scrambling over the barrier in a last ditch effort to reach them, then just as his strength failed, his fingers closed tightly around two gentle but strong hands.

**0000000000**

"He squeezed my hand Dad." Don whispered excitedly, without taking his eyes from his brother's face. "Come on buddy…fight it!"

"Mine to, Donnie." Alan sobbed happily. "Mine too.

**00000000000**

They tried to pull him up but the barrier was still blocking his path. A sob caught in his throat when he failed to get through…..it wasn't fair; he'd fought too hard to fail now. Charlie gritted his teeth; gathering all of his remaining strength he gave one massive thrust and finally tumbled through the barrier.

Charlie's eyelids fluttered open, and then closed. His dark lashes lifted once again and this time remained open as he tried to focus on his surroundings. A slight smile lifted the corner of his lips when his expressive brown eyes met those of his brother and father; he was home.

"TBC

Epilogue to follow

A/N: To my readers with medical backgrounds: Please keep in mind that this is a work of_ fiction _and all medical references are subject to the_ whim _of the author_._


	33. Chapter 33

By the Dawn's Early Light

By

1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: I appreciate your reviews and alerts. Thank you.

Chapter 33 – Epilogue-Part 1

"Remember Don, this is just a visit," Robin said, shaking her finger at him. "You are not allowed to do any work."

They were standing in the back of one of the elevators in the Federal building where Don worked and where she had a meeting with the Assistant Director.

"Don't worry," Don assured her with a lop-sided grin. "I couldn't even if I wanted too. The pain meds the doctor gave me makes it hard to form a coherent thought."

Her smile broadened and she visibly relaxed as the elevator doors slid open on his floor. As some of the other passengers began to disembark, she quickly gave him a peck on the cheek before he stepped through the open doors. "My meeting shouldn't last more than an hour, then I'll be back to pick you up."

"Don't worry, I'll be here." Don called out, his grin fading as the doors began to close. The swelling had gone down in his injured eye and although his vision had cleared up, the black and blue bruise beneath it had turned to an ugly shade of yellow, mixed with a dark purple hue. The medication helped minimize the pain from his cracked ribs while his body went through the healing process but it did nothing to help ease his tortured mind. It had been three days since the assault in Charlie's office and he still couldn't get it out of his mind. Don couldn't sleep at night and would wake up in a cold sweat, reliving the attack.

He tried to explain his feelings to Robin and although she seemed to understand the emotional trauma that he'd experienced, he knew that she couldn't fully grasp his over-whelming sense of failure. But that wasn't really her fault because he just couldn't bring himself to talk about his feelings on how he had failed to protect Charlie ….he just wasn't ready to face them yet. Don was not only on medical leave but had also been put on restricted duty as well. Before he would be allowed to return to field work he would have to submit to a psychiatric review and a shooting team would have to investigate the circumstances leading up to Schiller's death.

Don was spending most of his time with Charlie and his Dad but they appeared to be in the same mood that he was, and often times their discussions would lapse into an uncomfortable silence then they would end up just passing the time watching a sports game on TV. Don had convinced himself that they just needed a little time, that was all, time to deal with the events before they could move on, but Robin had noticed and it worried her. It turned out that she wasn't the only one; Amita had confided to her that she had never seen Charlie so withdrawn and distant. Even his father was behaving uncharacteristically; always on edge and jumping at the slightest sound. Don knew that the three of them had to talk about the attack but this morning he needed a change of scenery so when Robin mentioned that she had a meeting with the ADIC he had jumped at the chance to go along.

Don removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket before he scanned the busy office looking for the members of his team.

"Hey Don," Colby called out, as he stepped from the break room.

Don grinned and nodded at the cup in his hand. "Hey Colb. How's the coffee? "

"Pretty good." He smiled smugly. "I just made a fresh pot. Want some?"

Don quickly raised a hand to stop him from going back to get him a cup; having tasted Colby's coffee before he wasn't about to go there again. "No, that's okay."

Colby frowned and muttered. "You guys are giving my brew a bad rep, man."

"Bad rep huh?" Don chuckled, scratching his chin to hide his grin. "Guess that depends on your taste buds. "

Colby feigned a hurt look and put his hand over his heart. "That's hurts, man."

"You know what they say pal," Don replied sarcastically as he started walking toward his cubicle, "the truth will set you free. Where is everyone anyway?"

Muttering under his breath, Colby fell into step with his boss. "In conference room 2."

"Working another case?" Don asked with a nod toward the room. As they closed the distance he could see a suitcase, papers and boxes scattered across the table.

"Naw," Colby replied with a shake of his head. "We're just getting all of our evidence together to close the….ah…you know….the Schiller case."

"Right," the senior agent mumbled grimly as he followed the younger man into the room.

"Hey Don." Liz greeted him with a smile, looking up from the laptop that she was working on.

Nikki sauntered over to his side and leaned in for a closer look at his eye. "Nice color boss," she said teasingly. "I have some makeup in my desk drawer that might cover that."

"Ha, ha," Don chuckled sarcastically, "Robin already tried that and you can see how effective it was."

"It's good to see you, man" David said, looking up from a stack of folders. "How are the ribs?"

"Not bad," Don smirked, "the meds really help a lot."

"I bet." David snickered.

Don waved his hand over the table. "What's all this?"

"Schiller's personal belongings. It turns out that he was staying at a local bed and breakfast." Colby said, setting his cup down as he pulled out a chair and sat down. "We tracked his credit card receipts to The Bissell House over in South Pasadena; his car was still in the parking lot too."

Nikki flipped open a folder. "The owner, a Jennifer McKay, said that he had stayed there once before and liked to take the bus around town. The poor woman seemed pretty distressed when she found out what he had done. McKay said most of the time he was a very polite and sweet man, but that there had been one incident where he had really scared her…said it was like he had suddenly become a different person." She handed the folder to Don. "Her statement is in here."

"Yeah, I know what she means," Don said, remembering the look in Ludwig's eyes when he had shifted personalities. He took the folder from her and scanned McKay's statement. "It's the spookiest thing that I've ever seen….still gives me the creeps." He glanced from agent to agent. "One minute his eyes would reflect intelligence and then in a split second you were staring into the eyes of a stone cold killer…..a regular Jekyll and Hyde."

Colby whistled softly. "Man I can't even begin to imagine what that must have been like."

"The man was methodical, I'll give him that much," Liz interjected in a disgusted tone as she scrolled through Schiller's laptop. "He tracked every aspect of his victim's lives and planned to go after all of the student's in that photograph." She blushed suddenly, realizing that her statement sounded as if this were just another case. "Don, I'm sorry, I …I..."

"Don't worry about it," he replied with a slight shake of his head, his eyes flickering over the items on the table. "It was personal, but you still have to deal with it objectively."

"I know, but…"

"No buts, Agent Warner," Don replied, shifting into to supervisor mode. "Sometimes you have to detach yourself so that you can do the job right."He handed the folder back to Nikki then pulled out a chair opposite David and sat down.

"How's Charlie doing?" David asked softly.

"He's dealing, but it's gonna take some time." Don answered gruffly with a shrug of his shoulders. His eyes dropped to the folder in David's hand. "What have you got there?"

"Charlie's statement," David said simply as he passed the folder to his boss. His cell phone rang and he quickly flipped it open, eager to change the subject. "Sinclair." After a few minutes he responded with "I'll send a team right over," before ending the call and turning to face the two female members of the team.

"Liz, Nikki, there's been a robbery at the Federal Savings & loan over on Wilshire; perpetrators have already fled the scene. Drive carefully."

"On it," Liz said as the two of them came to their feet but before she left her eyes met Don's. "Let me know if there's anything that I can do to help?"

"That goes for me too."Nikki added quickly as they left the room.

Don muttered a thank-you, but he was already opening the manila folder.

"Guess I'll take the laptop." Colby mumbled, sliding over to the chair that Liz had just vacated.

"Good idea," David agreed coming to his feet with his hands full of reports." Don, I've got to get these filed. Are you going to be here a while longer?"

"Until Robin is finished with her meeting." Don replied, glancing up briefly.

"Maybe I'll catch you before you leave." He said as he rushed out of the room.

Don simply nodded; already immersed in his brother's tale of the assault. It was practically identical to his own except Charlie's included how Schiller had slipped in after the cleaning people had left.

The room became quiet again as Colby scrolled through the data on Schiller's laptop and Don continued to read Charlie's statement. He flipped over the last page expecting the rest of the report to read more or less the same as his but was astonished by Charlie's revelation that Schiller had decided to take his own life.

"What?" he gasped in surprise, covering his mouth with one hand; if this was true then Charlie had been out of danger and he had shot the man without proper cause!

Colby glanced sideways then paused at the expression on his friend's face. "What's the matter Don?"

"Schiller wasn't going to shoot Charlie?"He asked in disbelief. "I didn't have to shoot him?"

"Charlie didn't tell you?" Colby exclaimed, surprised himself. "You guys have got to start talking, man."

Don tilted his head to the side; his brow furrowing as he concentrated on Schiller's movements in those brief seconds before five a.m. In his mind's eye he could picture the events of Saturday morning playing out in slow motion.

_The fourth chime pealed from the watch and Schiller motioned toward the blackboard with the gun in his hand then pointed it at his brother. He clearly heard Charlie say" If you…are going…to kill…me then...you'll have…to...look...me in...the eye." Don called out a warning for Ludwig to drop the gun but the man ignored him then the fifth chime rang out and he fired_.

He had forgotten that he heard Charlie call out, but now he could remember it as clear as day. Someone shook his arm and he looked over in surprise at Colby.

"It doesn't matter that he changed his mind at the last minute, Don. You had no way of knowing that he wasn't going to kill Charlie." Colby squeezed his shoulder encouragingly. "It was a righteous kill Don, and I'm sure the shooting team will come to the same conclusion."

"I didn't have a choice Colby," Don reiterated but he didn't sound quite as confident as he had when he had given his statement.

Colby's mouth opened to answer but he was interrupted by the ring of his cell phone. He gave Don an apologetic look and answered it, said a few words then ended the call. He rose to his feet and gathered some folders from the other side of the table. "Sorry, I've got to take these to David." He rushed through the door calling over his shoulder. "I'll be right back."

Still shocked by the revelation, he stared blankly at the pages then his gaze flittered across the table top, noting the evidence tags attached to Schiller's belongings. Suddenly his eyes darkened with unbridled rage as they settled on one item in particular… the cane. It was sealed in a plastic bag marked as evidence for seven murder cases….. and the attempted murder of Dr. Charles Eppes.

Don's jaw tightened as he experienced a flashback of one of the caning incidents. He squeezed his eyes shut against the memory of the cane hitting his brother and nearly choked on bile. He opened his eyes and covered his cough with his hand; relieved that no one else was in the room to see how badly his hand was trembling. Don took deep breaths to calm down and a few minutes later when there was a knock on the glass door, he was once again in control of his emotions.

He twisted around; his eyebrows shooting up in surprise when Dr. William Bradford casually walked into the room.

"Hello Don." The former LAPD detective had not always been so soft-spoken. He had seen his share of violence as an undercover narcotics officer in East Los Angeles as well as spending two years on a crash team in Compton. William had given that up though and at forty-nine had become one of L.A.'s more prominent police psychiatrists.

"Hey Doc," Don responded a little uncomfortably; knowing that he had to have a psychiatric review before he could return to duty was making him a little nervous. "What brings you downtown?"

Bradford rolled his shoulders. "I had to drop off some reviews." He sauntered over to the table. "I heard about what happened…figured I stop in and see how you're doing." He cocked his head to the side. "Are you even supposed to be here?"

Don chuckled dryly. "Not really. I'm just visiting while Robin has a meeting with the ADIC."

Bradford pulled out a chair and sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him. "So…how are you doing?"

Don shrugged nonchlantly, then winced as he shifted in his chair; the meds were beginning to wear off a little. "I've been better. I just need a little time to heal, that's all."

Bradford leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'm not referring to your physical state and I think you know that. I've read the report, Don; you've experienced an extremely traumatic event and it's one that you will need to deal with right away."

"It's only been three days," the agent replied defensively.

"Only three days." Bradford repeated thoughtfully. "Let me ask you this? Are you sleeping at night or are you having flashbacks from the attack?"

Don broke eye contact and looked away without responding.

"Um...huh. Just as I thought." He leaned forward and tapped Don on the forearm. "I have an opening on Friday at 11:00. Why don't I schedule you for that time slot?" When Don didn't respond he added. "You have to see me anyway before you can return to field duty…might as well be now."

"Sure...why not?" Don sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Good. It's settled then," Bradford said with a slight smile, and then he became more serious. "How is Charlie coping with the attack?"

"He's hurting," Don answered softly, "but he won't talk about it."

"Must run in the family." Bradford muttered, gaining him an angry glare from the agent but held up his hand to forestall any cutting remarks from Don. "No offense intended. Do you know if he's going to see a counselor?"

Don shook his head. "Charlie said that he plans to but I don't think that he's made any arrangements yet."

I'm a police psychiatrist, not a family counselor, but in this situation maybe Charlie should come with you." Bradford mused thoughtfully. "You both shared in the brutality of the attack so why not work together to deal with it. Perhaps it would be better for both of you if you attended together."

"Like that's going to happen." The agent chuckled dryly.

"Why do you say that?" Dr. Bradford grunted in surprise. "Charlie came once before."

Don's eyes darted away. "Yeah, but it took my Dad to…to intervene and get him to agree."

"Hm ... mmm," Bradford murmured, scratching his beard thoughtfully. "Your father was at the crime scene too, wasn't he?" At Don's nod he had another question. "How is he handling the situation?"

Don rubbed a hand over his face before meeting Bradford's eye. "Not so good. He's very anxious…jumping at every little sound….and I catch him constantly looking at us…as if we're both going to disappear right before his eyes."

"Actually, given the circumstances that's a pretty normal response, but he's going to need help to put it behind him." Bradford replied. "I've got an idea, Don. No, no…just hear me out." He added quickly when Don opened his mouth to protest. "As I said before, I'm not a family counselor, but in order to help you, I need to help them too. Do you think that you can get them both to attend?"

"I…I don't know." Don replied with a shake of his head. He thought about the last few days and how it seemed as if the three of them were just barely functioning. It was as if their lives had been taken from them and suddenly he wanted it back more than anything. His dark brown eyes lit up with determination as he met Bradford's gaze.

"I'll find a way to get them there."

**0000000000000**

Charlie hissed when the water hit his back; instinctively he turned sideways to deflect the shower spray from coming in direct contact with his wounds. It didn't sting as much if the spray of water just ran over his shoulders. Most of the injuries that he had incurred from the caning were already turning to bruises but there were two deeper cuts that were going to take a lot longer to heal.

He turned off the water and stepped from the shower, dried off and then wrapped a dry towel around his waist. Charlie wiped the steam from the mirror and lathered up for a shave, wincing as he covered the black and blue bruise on his left cheek. He stared at his reflection as he shaved, noting the dark circles in particular beneath his eyes. The dark brown eyes that returned his gaze had a haunted look to them; eyes that reflected his inner turmoil as he tried to deal with the effects of Schiller's assault. In the days following the attack he began to experience a pervasive feeling of sadness and an emotional numbness. He noticed a gnawing sense of guilt growing within him and found himself repeatedly asking the question "why did I live when Tom and the others died?"

The dark circles represented the three sleepless nights that he'd experienced upon his release from the hospital. Thankfully his stay there had been a short one and on Sunday afternoon he had returned home to the Craftsman. With his family's loving care his physical body was healing quickly, but the mental aspects of the attack were taking its toll on him. Every time he closed his eyes he would relive the last moments of Schiller's life, followed by his own journey as he struggled to wake up.

Amita was loving and attentive to the point where he felt as if she was smothering him and he laughingly accused her of taking 'hovering' lessons from his Dad, but she had taken his words to heart and had run from the room with tears in her eyes; the situation was becoming untenable and he had begun to look forward to her leaving for work. Charlie tried to concentrate on their relationship and lose himself in discussions with Larry on a multitude of cosmological and mathematical theories but intrusive thoughts and flashbacks of the assault plagued him mercilessly during his waking hours.

Charlie sighed heavily and shook himself from his reverie then made his way to the bedroom. His stomach growled and he glanced at the clock, it appeared that he had slept the morning away, and now it was almost lunchtime.

He'd taken the week off, not only to give himself time to heal, but also to give the cleaning crew time to get his office in order. The FBI forensics team had only released the "crime scene" yesterday afternoon, and the fact that those two words now applied to his office was enough to turn his stomach. He tasted bile suddenly and swallowed hard against it as he remembered the effects that Don's bullet had on the back of Schiller's head; forcing the memory from his mind he concentrated on finding something to wear.

Shrugging on a loose-fitting tee shirt and an old pair of comfortable jogging pants he padded barefoot down the hallway toward the staircase. An enticing aroma wafted up to the second floor, prompting another growl from his empty stomach. The smell of his Dad's "signature chicken soup" had his mouth watering by the time his foot hit the first step.

Charlie was halfway down the staircase when he broke out in a cold sweat; suddenly he began to feel weak and light headed. "Guess I shouldn't have skipped dinner last night," he grumbled as he grabbed the rail and sank slowly to the steps. He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees; holding his head in his hands until the sudden weakness subsided. It was then that he heard the sound of voices echoing from the living room.

It wasn't his intention to eavesdrop but he couldn't really get up at the moment and something Don had just said suddenly grabbed his attention.

"After you and Mom discovered Charlie's gift, did you ever consider sending him away?"

On the stairway, Charlie held his breath and unconsciously leaned forward in a desperate attempt to hear Alan's answer.

"Why would we do something like that?" Alan huffed incredulously. "That's the most ridiculous question that I think I've ever heard you ask, and that includes all of the questions you asked when you were a kid."

Don rolled his eyes. "Come on Dad, you know what I mean? Did you and Mom ever feel that it would be in his best interest if he was with people that were more qualified to help him with his gift?"

Alan leaned back and studied his son thoughtfully before he spoke. "No, Donnie, we never thought about sending your brother away. Did we have doubts about our ability to meet his needs? Yes, of course, we did."

On the stairway, Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. Alan's answer flooded his heart with over-whelming joy; he was well aware that his special needs had created problems for his family and had often wondered if they would have been better off if they had sent him away.

Alan's brows drew together in puzzlement. "Why are you asking this now?" Alan asked. "Do you think we should have?"

Once again Charlie held his breath. He idolized his brother and it would cut him to the quick if he answered yes to his Dad's question.

"If you had asked me that question when I was a kid," Don answered, his voice thick with emotion, "I might have said yes, but it would have been for all of the wrong reasons. I…I was a stupid kid Dad." He raised his hand to stop Alan from interrupting him. "No, it's true. I think that I resented all of the attention that Charlie got, not only from you and Mom, but from everyone else as well."

"Donnie," Alan huffed, "you had to sacrifice a lot for us to give Charlie what he needed so I think it's only natural that you felt a little resentment toward him."

"I wish…I wish that I had been a better brother to him." He glanced sideways and when he looked back there were unshed tears glistening in his eyes. "I didn't see your wisdom then, but I do now and I'm so glad that you and Mom didn't send him away."

Charlie's heart had dropped at Don's first words but now it began to soar once again.

"Does this have anything to do with Professor Schiller?" Alan asked grimly, eyeing his son over the rims of his glasses.

"Yeah," Don confessed. "It was something that he said that morning. He was raving that Charlie would have accomplished more if he had been sent to a scientific institution when he was a child and that Charlie had too many distractions from his family and friends to reach his full potential." Don shook his head angrily. "All he saw was Charlie's brain, not the person within!"

"Larry said that's what happened to Schiller ….and just look how he turned out," Alan commented sarcastically. He leaned forward and squeezed his sons forearm. "I think that I resented your brother a little too, especially when your Mom went to Princeton with him." Alan smiled fondly at her memory. "I imagined her falling for some professor and felt an irrational jealously that was based on my own imagination." He grinned sheepishly at his son. "I guess stupid runs in the family, Donnie."

"You think?" Don answered with a grin of his own.

"Your Mother was right to go with Charlie, "Alan said softly. "She knew there were people out there like Schiller and she was bound and determined to protect her little boy from them. Our Charlie might have turned out completely different if she hadn't been there to protect and guide him."

"Thank God for Mom's insight." Don sighed in agreement.

Charlie pulled himself up slowly and noisily padded the rest of the way down the stairs. He felt more than a little embarrassed over listening to their conversation and wanted to make sure that they could hear him coming.

"Hey, Chuck," Don greeted him as his foot left the last step. "I was afraid that you might sleep all day."

"And let you have all of Dad's chicken soup?" Charlie exclaimed teasingly. "No way, bro!"

Alan rose stiffly to his feet and motioned toward the kitchen. "Come on boys, soup and sandwiches all around." He picked up a small pillow from the sofa and carried it with him to the dining room table. "Here you go son," he said quietly to Charlie before going out to the kitchen.

"Thanks Dad." Charlie sighed as he gingerly sat down across from his brother. He looked up to meet his brother's concerned gaze and gave him a lop-sided smile in an effort to make light of the situation. "At least I can sit down now." His attempt failed though so he changed the subject. "How are you doing?"

"Better," Don answered. "My ribs don't hurt as much anymore and I have good vision in my eye again."

Alan returned with bowls brimming full of hot chicken soup and then left to get the sandwiches; refusing Don's offer to help and sending a threatening glare his way in the event he decided to disobey him.

The banter faded as the Eppes men concentrated on their lunch, each man becoming consumed by their own thoughts. They were halfway through their lunch when Don decided to broach the subject of Dr. Bradford's session. He eyed his brother and father warily, then cleared his throat.

"So…ah…because of the shooting, I …ah…have to submit to a psychiatric review before I can return to field duty."

Alan looked up, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "That's just standard procedure…right? I mean the man didn't really give you much of a choice."

"That's right, Dad," Don said hastily to ease his father's concerns. "Anyway when I was at the office earlier today Dr. Bradford came in and set up and appointment for Friday."

"I like Bradford. I was impressed by his abilities when I joined you in that session a few years ago," Charlie said, taking a sip of his water.

"Funny that you should say that Charlie," Don said as he nervously stirred his soup. "He ah…wanted to know if you could join us again."

Charlie's brown eyes shot open then narrowed suspiciously. He lowered the rest of his sandwich to his plate and gazed silently at his brother.

Alan coughed in the silence, glancing from one brother to the other. "Charlie, I …I think that would be a great idea?"

Charlie glanced briefly at his Dad then turned back to face his brother. "I told you that I would make an appointment when I was ready."

"I know…and I told him that…but he said because we experienced it together that he could help me more if you were present." Don looked him in the eye;trying to look as innocent as he could, he said the words that he knew his brother wouldn't be able to refuse. "You do want to help me, don't you, Charlie?"

Charlie's eyes darted away and then back again. Don wasn't fooling him, he knew that he was being played, and yet he had a feeling that it was the right thing to do. Charlie absently stirred his own soup as he thought it over; remembering Amita's tears before she had left for work that morning pushed him to make a decision. "I'll do it," he said suddenly looking up to meet his brother's eyes. "Maybe he can help both of us."

Alan smiled, exhaling a relieved sigh. "I can't wait until Friday," he said eagerly, "it will be good for both of you….you'll see?"

Two dark heads swiveled simultaneously in his direction.

"Actually Dad," Don said tentatively," he would like for you to attend as well."

Alan's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Me?" he asked, his voice raising an octave. "Why does he want to see me?"

"He thinks that your presence will help us deal with it better."

"Don't you want to help us, Dad?" Charlie asked, using Don's line.

"Ganging up on me, are you?" Alan asked, glaring at both sons. "Of course I…I want to help you both." He dropped his eyes to his bowl and shoveled a spoonful of soup into his mouth while he regained his composure. He was no fool; he'd seen through Don's attempt easy enough but as he ate his soup, the thought occurred to him that he might really be able to help them get over the worst aspects of the attack and move on.

Alan set his jaw, then met the eyes of his sons; his gaze firm and strong.

"I'll be there too. Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

TBC

A/N: This was supposed to be the last chapter but the epilogue was so long that I had no choice but to split it up.


	34. Chapter 34

By the Dawn's Early Light

By

1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Spoilers: "Charlie Don't Surf"

A/N: Thank you for your reviews. I truly appreciate them.

Chapter 34-Epilogue-Part 2:

Friday had arrived all too quickly for the Eppes men, and now all three of them were wishing that they hadn't agreed to the meeting so quickly. Charlie sat at one end of the sofa, nervously picking imaginary lent from his jeans while Alan, sitting next to him, kept shifting his position to get more comfortable. First he would cross his legs, then uncross them at which point he would cross his arms and uncross them; after a few minutes he would start the whole process all over again. Don wasn't faring much better; he was sitting in a chair across from them nervously twirling his sunglasses.

Bradford had chosen the armchair next to Don and he was silently wondering if he had make a mistake in suggesting that they all come together; the amount of tension in the room was starting to grate on his own nerves.

"I did some research on Schiller," Bradford informed them, attempting to break the ice. "I wanted to get a basic idea of the man that the two of you were dealing with that night and I have to admit that I'm really curious about his personality shifts."

Don leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. "I can honestly say that it was the creepiest thing that I have ever dealt with." He shook his head slightly, as if he still couldn't believe it. "One second the man would appear rational, but not. What I mean is there were times he would be in complete teacher mode, focusing on Charlie's work and seemingly oblivious to the pain and suffering that Charlie was enduring at his hand then he would change and become almost friendly at times, like thanking me for the pizza that I brought or laughing at old sitcoms on TV; he allowed us to talk and gave us water to drink, totally ignoring the fact that we were physically restrained." His voice suddenly dropped an octave and he glanced at his brother; holding his eye as he spoke. "The next second his personality would shift, and his eyes would turn brutally cold, totally void of all emotion," he swallowed hard, eyes still locked with his brothers', "it was this one that we feared most of all."

"He's right," Charlie agreed, barely suppressing a shudder at the memory, "the man was positively malevolent." He looked away but then his eye darted back almost immediately as he recalled another memory. "Don, at the end, in those last few seconds, he…wasn't like that. Schiller looked me in the eye and I…I…saw clarity. At first, I thought his personality had shifted again and the bad one had returned, but I was wrong." He nervously rubbed his forehead then glanced at the others. "I couldn't believe it," he told them, his voice barely above a whisper, "suddenly his eyes reflected intelligence and awareness. I saw compassion in them and then the horrified realization of what he had done and what he had been planning to do. I can see them now," Charlie said, laughing nervously as he averted his eyes. "I knew the instant that he decided to kill himself…his expression changed to one of grim determination. I knew before he told me that he was going to do it to atone for his crimes." Charlie frowned , his forehead wrinkling in confusion, as if he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "Despite all that Professor Schiller had done, I…I suddenly felt sorry for him." He swallowed hard, suddenly embarrassed and ducked his head.

"That's a perfectly normal reaction Charlie." Bradford said, his voice softening."Our compassion for others, even our enemies is inherent in all of us. It's one of the traits that define us as a human being."

"Thanks," the young man replied, a quiet appreciation reflecting in his expressive brown eyes.

Bradford cleared his throat. "I don't doubt that at one time Schiller also exhibited altruistic behavior as well."

"What do you mean?" Alan asked.

"As I said before, I did a little research on the man," he said with a glance at Don. "Agent Sinclair gave me access to Schiller's case file after I told him that I would be doing your psych review. They found a journal among his things that he started many, many years ago and it answers some questions."

"Such as?" Don prompted.

"For one thing, based on what the two of you have just told me and what I found in his journal, I believe the man suffered from "dissociative identity disorder."

"Studies suggest that dissociation is correlated with a history of trauma. " Charlie commented. At Don's questionable look, he shrugged and offered an explanation. "I've included some of this in my Cognitive Emergence work." Don nodded and mouthed the word "oh" then turned back to face Bradford.

"That's exactly right, Charlie." Bradford agreed, reading over some papers in his hand. "According to Schiller's journal, he was seven when he was sent to live at an institute of higher learning. Unfortunately, the mindset back then was that discipline encouraged productivity and they would go to great lengths to ensure the school's success. "He looked up and frowned. "You know the old adage, 'spare the rod, and spoil the child'? Well, needless to say, Ludwig wasn't spoiled. The coroner's report showed multiple scars on the man's back, all old ones, no doubt from his stay there as a youth." He sighed heavily before speaking again. "That "cold personality" that you spoke of was probably created during the time he was there, between being forced to leave his family at such a young age and growing up in such a harsh environment his mind developed another personality to deal with his situation. After he left the institute it was no longer necessary so he buried it deep within his mind until something _triggered_ its release."

"Like being forced to retire and leave the only home and family that he ever had." Charlie said sadly.

"Wait a minute," Don said. "Schiller was forced to retire because he became violent, so the trigger had to happen before that. The fact that he had to leave Princeton just acerbated the effects."

"Right," Bradford agreed. "According to the journal, someone from the institute came to visit but he refused to meet with them, even so, that was apparently enough to trigger the second personality and he lashed out at a student. As far as I can tell it only surfaced one other time," he said glancing sideways at Charlie, "and that was when you were in his class at Princeton."

"Yeah," the young man agreed,"my mother had me taken out of his class."

"What?" Don asked, dumbfounded. "When was this?"

Charlie just shook his head. "Long story bro, I'll tell you all about it later."

"Dr. Bradford, do you know what triggered that episode?" Alan asked curiously.

The psychiatrist flipped back through a few pages of notes before answering Alan's question. "Considering the time line, it was probably because his father came to visit him asking for money."

Alan frowned, shaking his head. "I could almost feel sorry for him."

"Feel sorry for the _child_, Dad," Don advised him,"but you can't excuse what the _man_ did." He had a sudden vision of shooting Schiller then rose anxiously to his feet and began to pace around the room

"You know, Don from what I read in your statement, you really didn't have any choice; shooting the man was your only option." Bradford commented as if he could read the agents mind. "Do you remember what you were thinking when you pulled the trigger?"

"What I was thinking?" Don asked, stopping in his track; his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he stared at Bradford.

"It's not that tough of a question."Bradford asserted, crossing his arms across his chest. "The man held you at gunpoint, tied you up, beat on you and your brother then repeatedly told you that he was going to kill Charlie at dawn."

"Yeah…so?" Don asked, his brows drawing together in confusion as he tried to ferret out Bradford's true meaning of the question.

"So," Bradford huffed, "if it had been me, I would have been pissed by the time I finally got a hold of my gun." He looked pointedly at Don and added. "Hell, by that time I might've shot him just to get revenge for what he had done to me and my brother."

"It wasn't like that." Don replied angrily, his voice rising sharply. "I saw the gun, he pointed it a Charlie then…the...the damn watch started chiming….and…and I knew I only had a few seconds to stop him from killing my brother." He glanced at the pale faces of his father and brother then scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. "I...I called out a warning but he wouldn't drop the gun. I couldn't see his face….I didn't know that he had decided to take his own life." His voice trailed off; his shoulders drooping as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I didn't know."

"He's right, I heard him call out," Charlie cried out, appalled at Bradford's insinuations."I can run an analysis to prove that Don couldn't see what Schiller was doing." He waved a hand at his brother. "There's no way Don could have known that he wasn't pointing that gun at me."

"That won't be necessary Professor," Bradford replied, his voice softening as he leaned forward. "Don, my point in all of this was to get you to admit that it was a good kill but obviously, you already know this, so what else are you beating yourself up about?"

Don shrugged and walked toward the window. "I don't know...I feel like I should've been able to do more." He eyes darted toward Charlie and then back to the window. "I feel like I failed Charlie…let him down somehow."

"In what way?" Bradford asked, scribbling a few notes on his clipboard.

"I'm an FBI agent, I'm trained to help people and yet…I …I let some college professor get the drop on me. Every time he hit Charlie with that cane I just wanted to tear him apart, but…but I couldn't do anything…to…to stop him." His voice broke as he added. "I've never felt so helpless in my life." Discouraged, he plopped down in an armchair and looked sadly at his brother. "I'm so sorry buddy."

"Hey it's okay," Charlie passionately replied. "You have nothing to feel sorry about. As soon as you were free you took care of Schiller."

"Thanks," Don whispered sadly.

Bradford took a sip of coffee and studied the agent. "The last time I heard, being an agent didn't mean that you were superman. According to your statement when you first walked in Schiller had a gun pointed at Charlie's head."

"That's right." Don agreed, frowning as he recalled the incident.

"What else could you have done?"

"Ah…, umm." The agent's brow furrowed as he thought it over. "Nothing. At that point I didn't have a clue who he was or what his agenda was."

"Exactly, you followed your training and tried to negotiate with him. Oh, and for the record, I don't think it's written anywhere that college professor's can't be homicidal so don't be so hard on yourself."

Don tilted his head to the side and contemplated the psychiatrist's words. The man was right, he had done everything he could to protect his brother. "Thanks, Doc," he said softly, beginning to relax for the first time in days.

"You're welcome," Bradford answered with a slight smile before turning his gaze on Alan and Charlie. Deciding that the young genius was going to be the more difficult of the two, he addressed the elder Eppes.

"How are you dealing with all of this, Alan?"

The elder Eppes blinked in surprise."Oh…I'm fine, I just came along to help Don."

"I didn't say that you needed any help," Bradford corrected him; "I just asked you a simple question."

Slightly flustered, Alan apologized quickly. "Oh…right, sorry." He took a deep breath and glanced briefly at his sons. He could already tell that Don was feeling a little better and realized that he was going to have to talk about his feelings in order to get Charlie to open up.

"According to the report, you were at the crime scene too." Bradford prompted. "That must have been pretty traumatic for you to see both of your sons covered in blood like that"

"Yeah," the older man agreed, dropping his eyes to the floor as he relived the scene in Charlie's office. He shook his head slightly and swallowed thickly before he spoke. "I…ah…can't say that I ever want to experience that again." He looked up and shared a painful expression with Don before shifting his gaze to his youngest. "For a few minutes there…we…ah…thought that you ….ah…had died."

Bradford nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry. That must have been very difficult for you."

"Difficult?" Alan whispered, tears clouding his eyes. "Donnie...was….inconsolable." He smiled sadly at his oldest. "When I found them he was holding his brother's bloody body, rocking back and forth, and sobbing for him to wake up."

Charlie's eyes widened, glistening with his own tears. "No one told me." He whispered, glancing from his father to his brother. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault Charlie," Alan said kindly, patting him on the shoulder before continuing with the story. "I finally convinced Don to let me hold you, and…ah….," he paused, licking his lips a few times before speaking again."I …ahh….I felt all hollow inside." He turned to face Bradford and cleared his throat. " A couple of years ago a good friend of mine lost his son and I did my best to try and console him, but now I realize that nothing I said could have possibly helped him with that loss."

Charlie squeezed his hand. "You're talking about Keith, aren't you?"

Alan nodded as Bradford looked at Don for an explanation.

"We grew up with Nathan Watts." He said quietly.

Bradford's eyebrows rose up in surprise. "The surfer turned park ranger? That Nathan Watts?"

Don smiled sadly. "The one and only."

Alan spoke up again, shifting around to face Charlie. "As I was holding you in my arms, I kept hearing Keith's words over and over in my head. They may be cliché but they are so true." He raised his head; eyes' drifting from Charlie's face to Don's and back again. "Keith said to me, "Our kids, they're not supposed to die before we do." Alan sighed sadly. "He was sooo right, I just wish that he could have been as lucky as we were."

"Dad," Don whispered brokenly,"I'm sorry. I don't know how I made that mistake."

"I don't blame you, Donnie," Alan replied hastily, looking from son to son. "It's just…that I don't think that I could go through that again." He sniffed and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. The room felt silent as Alan blew his nose, giving Bradford the time that he needed to make a few notes on his clipboard. He really didn't have any advice to give Alan; the man didn't need it. Letting his sons know how he felt would be enough to help him put the ordeal behind him and move on. Bradford glanced at the youngest member of the group; Charlie's eyes were downcast, staring at something only he could see.

"Charlie?" he asked quietly. The young man straightened up and slowly turned his head; the expressive eyes that met his nearly made him wince. His dark brown orbs were full of pain, anguish and despair. "How are you feeling?"

"Feeling?" Charlie asked, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "I don't feel anything…just sort of numb inside."

"Have you been sleeping?"

"No," Charlie answered quietly as he clasped his hands together and nervously tapped his thumb against his teeth. "I dream about th…the attack and the people that Schiller killed. Sometimes…. I wonder why I lived and the others died?"

"Charlie!" Alan exclaimed, ill at ease over his son's words.

"You can't think like that, buddy." Don said anxiously. "I've watched a lot of good agents give up on life because they felt guilty for surviving an attack when their partners died."

"Why me Don?" Charlie asked, suddenly angry. "Why did I live and Tom die?"

Bradford answered before Don could say anything else. "No one can answer that question, Charlie, but I can tell you that the feelings that you have described are symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress disorder. This phenomenon is often experienced by those who escape from a traumatic event that seriously injures and kills others; it is known as Survivor guilt."

"Survivor guilt?" Charlie asked numbly, sharing worried glances with his Dad and brother.

"Yes," Bradford answered as he shifted around in his chair to get more comfortable. "A victim will often experience a pervasive feeling of sadness and emotional numbness. An overwhelming sense of guilt usually develops because he survived a tragedy and others did not. Does this sound familiar Charlie?"

"Yes," he answered softly.

"Becoming withdrawn, sleeplessness, intrusive thoughts and flashbacks are other symptoms that you may have experienced." He waited until Charlie nodded his head before continuing on."Guilt is believed to serve four functions: defending against helplessness, effecting self-punishment, inhibiting impulses and preventing the event from becoming meaningless." He leaned forward and said quietly. "Your former classmates' deaths were not your fault. Charlie, you didn't kill Tom but you'll have to face that fact or it will destroy you."

Charlie ducked his head and rubbed his hands nervously on his jeans. He raised his head and exchanged glances with Don and his father before turning back to face Bradford. "What…what should I do?"

"First, remind yourself who is to blame—you are not to blame. Grieve for your friend and the other victims but do not accept responsibility for that loss. Second, restore a sense of safety and stability to your life, by that I mean, return to routines as soon as you can; go back to work and your social activities." He waved his hand at Don and Alan. "Talk to your wife, brother, father and your friends, that is the most effective way to reduce feelings of isolation, withdrawal and helplessness, so talk, talk and then talk some more; this will not only help you but it will also help them get through this as well."

"Dr. Bradford makes a lot of sense, Charlie." Alan said encouragingly.

Don nodded his head in agreement. "I think he's right too, Charlie."

He wanted to change and desperately wanted to get his life back. "I'll give it a try Dr. Bradford," Charlie responded, speaking in a more positive tone.

"That's all I ask…just give it a chance." He regarded them quietly for a moment and then spoke again. "Aaron Hass said that, "guilt is the penance one pays for the gift of survival." Instead of feeling guilty, remind yourself that you and your loved ones have been given a gift—that gift is your survival, Charlie. Nurture your will to survive and fight anything that challenges your way of life."

"I've got an idea," Don exclaimed suddenly." "Instead of flying to Castle Rock next weekend why don't we drive there? That will give us lots of time to talk about things."

"Castle Rock?" Bradford questioned

"We're attending a memorial service for Tom next Sunday." Alan explained then turned to his youngest son. "What do you think Charlie?"

Charlie smiled as he answered. "I like that idea, Dad."

"Good, then we have a road trip to plan."

Pleased with what he was seeing, a soft smile spread across Bradford's face. The tension that the three men had exhibited upon their arrival had almost completely vanished leaving them much more relaxed and at ease. They weren't out of the woods yet but they were well on their way. He rose from his chair, signaling an end to the session.

"Don, stop by with your form and I'll sign it for you. I see no reason why you shouldn't return to field duty."

"Thanks Doc." Don replied, shrugging into his light jacket. Charlie and Alan rose and the three of them thanked Bradford for his help and headed for the door.

"Not a family counselor, huh?" Don chuckled just before he closed the door behind him.

"Let's keep that between us." Bradford retorted with a grin. "I've got a rep to maintain and Police Psychiatrist sounds a little more impressive than a family counselor."

**0000000000000**

Charlie took a deep breath and inserted the key in the lock of his office door …but didn't turn it. He released it to wipe the sweat from his palm; this marked his first time back in his office since Schiller's death. It was a journey that he knew he had to face alone so he had asked Amita and Larry to not follow him up.

He took a deep breath, turned the key and pushed open the door but as he started to step through the doorway he sensed a presence behind him. Startled, he twisted around, almost knocking the coffee cups from his brother's hands

"Careful Chuck." Don said calmly, handing him one of the cups before removing his sunglasses and tucking them into his pocket.

Charlie's eyebrows had disappeared beneath his curls, his eyes wide with surprise. "Don! What are you doing here? You scared me half to death, man."

"I'm sorry," Don replied more seriously, "that wasn't my intention. I just dropped by to see how you were doing?"

"I'm okay Don," he said a little impatiently.

Don pointedly glanced around the hallway. "If you're okay then why are we still out here?"

"What?" Charlie asked, and then realized they were still standing in the doorway. "Fine." He added in a clipped voice and strode into his office. His footsteps faltered slightly as he rounded his desk and set his bag on the floor. A flashback intruded on his thoughts and Charlie's hand trembled slightly as he placed the cup on his desk. For a brief moment he had been falling backwards staring into Schiller's dead eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Charlie looked up and slowly shook his head. "Yeah," he answered as he nervously ran his hand over his mouth. "I…ah…just had a flashback, that's all."

"Are you still getting a lot of them?" Don asked his eyes tight with concern.

"No, this is actually the first one I've had in a while."

"They'll stop Charlie," Don said coming forward and setting a package on the top of Charlie's desk, "you'll see. You probably had that one because….well, this is where it happened." He came all the way around the desk and scrutinized the floor and walls. "The cleaning crew did a good job in here." He looked up and grinned. "There's not a single sign of what happened here."

Charlie snickered. "I'll have to give Amita credit for that. I hear she cracked the whip pretty hard before it passed her inspection."

"Good for her." Don chuckled.

"What's this?" Charlie asked, noticing the package for the first time.

"That, young Eppes is my office warming gift for you. I realized that I had never given you a gift when you moved into your office, so here it is."

Charlie was touched by his thoughtfulness. "Don, you didn't have to…"

"I know," Don said interrupting him, "but I wanted too. Aren't you going to open it?"

"Yeah, sure." He had it open in a matter of minutes and gasped with delight as he pulled a new hourglass from the box. "Hey, thanks bro." he said happily as he set it down on the desk.

"That's a special hourglass, Charlie."

"Special?" Charlie asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "How is it special?"

"It's special because I want it to be a reminder to both of us that time passes by quickly, and that no matter how busy we get we should always make the time to get together." Don's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he extended his hand toward him. "Deal?"

Charlie took his hand and gripped it tightly then met his gaze, moisture gathering around his own eyes. "Deal."

Don released his hand and checked his watch. "I…ah have to get going soon but I wanted to tell you why I pushed you away during the Henderson case."

"That seems like a lifetime ago." Charlie said, tilting his head to the side as he studied his brother's face. "Don, you don't have to say anything because I understand why you did that."

It was Don's turn to tilt his head. "You do?"

"Yes I do. Every time that Schiller hurt you, I felt responsible," he said, holding up a hand to prevent Don's protest. "You wouldn't have been in danger or hurt that Friday night if you hadn't come to see me."

"It wasn't your fault, buddy."

"I know, but I still felt like it was, just like you would have felt guilty if Henderson had come after me. Right?"

"Right," Don agreed, studying the expression on his brother's face, "but?"

"But next time," Charlie replied, grinning from ear to ear, "let me help and we'll catch them sooner."

Don rolled his eyes, and nodded; he saw that one coming. "Yeah…yeah." He chuckled, and then glanced at his watch again. "I really have to go, bro."

"I know and I have to get ready for my first class."

Don was almost at the door when he paused and turned around. "Charlie, are you going to be okay?"

Charlie gazed at him, his expressive eyes full of warmth and love. "Don't worry, I'll be fine." As Don started to turn around he called out again. "Hey, Don."

His brother looked back; sunglasses half way to his face. "What is it, Charlie?"

"I…ah…just wanted to say thanks," his eyes darted away then back again, "for being here that night. I….ah…don't think that I would have survived if you hadn't been here with me."

"I'll always be here for you, buddy." Don said quietly, then put on his sunglasses and strode out the door.

Charlie took a deep breath and looked around the room. Before Don's visit he had felt uneasy, like some part of Schiller had remained in his office, but now his heart felt lighter than it had in days. The young professor hurried over to his desk and started gathering the books that he would need for his class then stuffed them in his bag. A brief glance at his watch spurred him to move faster and soon he was striding for the door.

Charlie paused as he was pulling the door closed and a smile spread across his face as he scanned the room. This was _his_ office and he knew that with the loving support of Amita, his brother and father, as well as Larry and his other friends, he would be able to put that terrifying night behind him; Schiller's ghost would never haunt him again.

TBC

A/N: I will post the final part later tonight.


	35. Chapter 35

By the Dawn's Early Light

By

1st Endeavor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Chapter 35-Epilogue-Part 3:

Arranging the trip had been an easy one. Don, Charlie and Alan packed one bag apiece and piled into Don's SUV Friday afternoon; Charlie didn't even bring his laptop along.

Amita had never met Tom and had elected to stay behind, not only to cover Charlie's classes but also to give him some time alone with his family. Charlie had told her about their visit to Bradford's and although she had already noticed a positive change in him, she felt that only more good could come from their road trip together. Larry was going to fly up on Sunday to attend the memorial service for Tom and fly back that evening. Robin also felt that it was a good idea for Don and his family to be alone, so she too decided to stay behind.

The drive to Castle Rock, WA had been an enlightening one for the Eppes men and as Dr. Bradford had suggested, they made good use of their time by sharing their feelings. They felt like they had been given a second chance and were determined not to let it slip through their fingers. By the time they pulled off the road at the Johnson Ridge Visitor Center, Don had learned all about Charlie's awards and he had finally shared some of his own experiences from his days in fugitive recovery and his life in New Mexico. They clamored out of the SUV and wandered to the edge of the ridge.

Mount St Helens was about three miles from the ridge but because of its size it looked much closer. A center band of clouds obscured the crater and new lava dome but the rest of the mountain stood out clearly against the clear blue sky and bright sunlight. Grasses, small shrubs and wildflowers dotted the mountainside giving them a sense of peace and tranquility. A warm breeze blew around them rustling the leaves of the trees that stood tall on the mountain and playfully forced the wildflowers to dance in its wake.

At the sound of approaching vehicles the three men turned around to view a long line of cars, led by two police cruisers. They watched in silence as car after car pulled into the parking lot.

"I didn't think Tom had any family." Don said quietly, eyeing the multitude of people getting out of the cars.

Charlie shrugged. "He didn't, but he made friends easily and he lived here for a long time."

The three men watched as the crowd gathered around the sheriff and then the group of people turned toward the overlook where the Eppes were standing and started walking toward them.

"Dr. Eppes?" The sheriff asked quietly, coming to a standstill in front of Charlie and extending his hand. "I'm Hank Fisher. I recognized you from a photograph I saw at Tom's place."

"Sheriff Fisher." Charlie said, shaking his hand. "This is my father, Alan Eppes and my brother Don."

"Nice to meet you." He shook their hands and then introduced his wife Emily and Kenny, his deputy.

Hank was carrying an urn in his other hand and offered it to Charlie. "We found Tom's will and he wanted you be the one to spread his ashes."

"Thank you," Charlie whispered, grasping the urn with both hands.

Another car pulled in and Larry joined them as they made their way to the edge of the ridge. It was a solemn group that stood there, heads bowed in silent prayers for the loss of a dear friend. Afterward, many of them stepped forward to speak of Tom's affable nature and of his many acts of generosity.

"Thomas Hill," Charlie said, turning around to face the crowd, "was my dear friend. We met at Princeton and I was surprised that he chose me as a friend," he smiled slightly at the memory," because most eighteen year olds don't want to be seen with a thirteen year old kid. When I asked him why, he would tease me and tell me that despite my_ big_ brain, he could see the person within and knew that I would be a true friend."His voice broke and he ducked his head for a minute. When Charlie looked up again there were tears in his eyes but he continued to speak. "Tom was my true friend and after graduation we stayed in touch and remained close in heart. Tom was an excellent scientist and I have no doubt that had he lived, he would have made many wondrous discoveries." He passed the urn to his brother and climbed over the protective railing. Don passed it back to him when his feet touched the ground again, and followed him over the rail.

Charlie took a deep breath and held the urn up for all to see. "Six years ago when Tom's parents were killed in a car accident, I stood by his side, in this very spot, as he spread their ashes over Mount St. Helens. Tom loved it here and I can think of no other place that he would want to be." He removed the lid and handed it to his brother then took a step closer to the edge of the ridge. "Go in peace my friend and join your family. " With that, he upended the urn and Tom's ashes floated away on the summer breeze.

The young man stood silently, his body swaying slightly from the stronger gusts of wind that buffeted the edge and watched the ashes disappear until he felt an arm drape around his shoulder. Charlie looked up to meet the concerned eyes of his brother. "Come on buddy, there's nothing more that we can do here."

"Good bye, Tom," he whispered, gazing one last time at the mountain and the valley below them. They backed away from the edge, retracing their steps and as they climbed back over the rail, Alan and Larry were there to meet them

"You okay, kiddo?" His father asked worriedly.

A sudden breeze circled around them and Charlie's eyes skimmed over the wildflowers rippling in the gentle wind. "Yeah, I'm fine Dad," he said as sad smile played across his lips. "This is a beautiful place, isn't it?"

"Simply magnificent." Larry agreed, stepping up to the rail. "It's hard to believe that such a serene place was once the scene of an eruption so powerful that it blew out the side of the mountain. One would have thought that the amount of destruction that it wrought would have been absolute, but they would have been wrong," He glanced at his young friend. "Look around you Charles, life has returned to the mountain and once again the balance between life and death has been restored. " He moved closer to Charlie and placed his hand over the young man's heart. "Tom's physical being may be lost to us, but he will live forever in our hearts."

Alan patted his friend on the shoulder. "That's beautiful, Larry."

"I have my moments." The cosmologist admitted as he fell in step with his friends and headed for the parking lot. As the foursome approached their cars they were surprised to discover that a number of the townspeople, along with the sheriff and his deputy, had remained in the parking lot.

"What do you suppose that is all about?" Alan asked, nodding toward the group with his chin.

"Not a clue." Charlie muttered as Fisher led the crowd over to them.

"What's going on Sheriff?" Don asked as he came up to them.

"Faye Wright," he said pointing to a woman standing to his right, "is hosting a luncheon in Tom's honor and we were hoping that you would join us. You'll need to eat before you start back anyway and I can guarantee that you won't get a better meal anywhere else."

The woman that he had pointed to stepped forward to greet them. She had a careworn, friendly face and her gray-streaked hair was wrapped neatly in a bun. "I'd be honored if you and your family would join us Dr. Eppes."

"Please call me, Charlie." He said as he took her hand in his.

"Tommy was like a son to me," she said looking deep into his eyes, "and many, many times he spoke proudly of his "little brother, Charlie," so like it or not, I guess that makes us family too." She paused to wipe at her eyes and then to the young man's surprise, embraced him in a fierce hug. Charlie returned her hug and then patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, completely caught off guard by the intense show of affection.

"Lunch sounds good to me, how about you guys?" Alan asked, coming to his son's rescue. At their eager nods he addressed Faye. "I'm Alan, Charlie's father, and we would be delighted to attend the luncheon."

"That would be wonderful," she replied, suddenly concerned with her appearance as she patted her bun to see if any errant strands had gotten loose.

"Good," the sheriff agreed. ""We're all going to Faye's place, The Castle Café. You can't miss it, its right in the center of town, across from the big rock."

A short while later they found themselves standing in front of the small restaurant but it was the massive rock that currently held their attention.

"Wow," Larry said, craning his neck to view the rock. "Now that would be an impressive climb, wouldn't it Charles?"

Charlie rolled his eyes and reached for the door handle. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm still trying to get over my fear of rock climbing and I'm sooo not ready for that one."

Larry turned to Don. "How about you, Don?"

Don pulled his sunglasses down and peered over the tops. "Sorry, pal, "he said, pausing in the doorway, "I'm with Charlie on this one."

"Alan?"

The elder Eppes glanced at the rock and then back at his friend scratching his chin thoughtfully as if he were considering a climb, then abruptly snorted. "Not in a million years." Alan raised his head suddenly as an enticing aroma wafted through the open doorway. "Now that is worth investigating." He mumbled and followed his sons into the restaurant.

"Oh, well," Larry sighed, eyeing the rock. Suddenly his stomach growled and he darted into the restaurant, totally forgetting about Castle Rock's namesake.

The small tables had been linked together to form one long table covered by a flowery tablecloth. Vases filled with fragrant honeysuckles dotted the length of the table and it was surrounded on all sides by a multitude of chairs.

Don and Charlie chose to sit directly across from Alan and Larry, making it easier for the four of them to carry on a conversation. Hank and his wife sat on Charlie's left and his deputy on Don's right. The brother's shared an amused look when Faye pulled out a chair and sat down next to Alan.

"Usually, I do everything myself but my daughters wanted me to take it easy today so they came over to help with the luncheon." She informed them. "They wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to work too hard today."

"That was very considerate of them," Alan said conversationally. "Do they live far away?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Gayle my oldest," she said, pointing to a woman carrying a large salad bowl to the table, "lives in Portland. Suddenly a younger woman appeared at her side and whispered something in her ear. "Yes, dear, now would be fine." She turned back to face Alan. "That was Amy, my youngest, and she lives in Seattle."

"What is that wondrous smell?" Alan asked, totally enthralled by the aroma. "What is that?"

"That's the main course," she said, her eyes lighting up. "My homemade ravioli and special sauce." Her expression suddenly changed and she sadly met Charlie's gaze. "It was Tommy's favorite meal and I thought it would be appropriate for today." Her eyes glistened with fresh tears. "It's my Wednesday night special, and just like clockwork, Tommy would come over for dinner. Sometimes he would eat it here, but most of the time he would take it back to his house because he was working on a new discovery or something like that."

"He raved about it actually," Charlie told her. "The last time I visited he ran into town and brought back two ravioli dinners." He smiled at her then glanced around the table. "Believe me you are in for a treat."

As if on cue, her daughters began serving the meal, and the sounds of conversations dissipated as everyone devoured the delicious meal. Homemade pies and cakes were brought out for desert and by the time they were finished, the Eppes and Larry were declaring that it had been the best meal that they had ever eaten.

They stayed for awhile, enjoying the companionship of Tom's friends, sharing stories of their lost companion and laughing at an occasional misadventure that he had experienced. Charlie gazed at their faces as the stories were told and was grateful that Tom had chosen to share his life with these kind, and caring people.

"I'm afraid that I must be going." Larry said, rising to his feet. "I should have just enough time to get back to Portland and catch my plane." He inclined his head to Faye. "My congratulations madam that was indeed a delicious meal." He pulled out his wallet and waited. "Now, if you would be so kind as to tell how much I owe you for said meal, I will pay you and be on my way."

Faye shook her head and pushed the bills that he offered away. "There is no charge for the meal but if you would like to leave a donation, there is a jar on the counter, by the register."

"Donation?" Charlie asked, turning toward the counter.

Faye nodded and rose from the table then led them over to the register. There was a large jar with an opening cut in the lid sitting next to a photograph of Tom and Charlie. They were standing arm in arm on at the crater of Mount St. Helens.

"That was taken on my last visit." Charlie said quietly.

Faye blushed. "The sheriff couldn't find a picture of Tom by himself, so I hope you don't mind that we borrowed this one from his cabin." She picked up the picture and held it toward him. "Hank said that he left everything to you, so I suppose this belongs to you too."

Charlie gently pushed the picture away, "No, you can keep it. I don't mind." He noticed a clipboard holding a paper containing a list of signatures on the other side of the jar and asked curiously."What is the donation for?"

The sheriff had followed them over and spoke up. "We would like to name one of the trails after Tom; he spent so much time up there that it only seems right." He waved his hand at the clipboard. "We're petitioning the Park service for permission to do this and in the meantime we're collecting money so that we can put up a plaque along the trail to honor his memory."

"I love that idea!" Charlie exclaimed excitedly, pulling out his wallet and stuffing some bills into the jar. He picked up the pen from the counter and signed his name to the petition then stepped aside to make room for the others to sign it.

"This will be our third petition." Faye said with a tone of frustration in her voice. "We still haven't heard anything from them about the first two we sent, but we're not going to give up."

"Hey, Charlie," Larry asked, turning to face his friend, "didn't you work up an analysis for the Park Service a few months ago?"

"I certainly did," Charlie answered with a grin, "and I worked directly with the head of the Park Service too."

"Now isn't that interesting." Larry said rather smugly as he turned to Faye. "My dear, would you happen to have an extra copy of that petition?"

"Of course," she answered, as she went behind the counter. She handed him a blank form and with a puzzled expression on her face asked why he wanted one.

"Because my dear, I have a feeling that the park service is about to be inundated with copies of your petition and personally delivered by Professor Charles Edward Eppes."

**00000000000000**

On the other side of the world a car passed through an old abandoned village that had fallen into ruin, but it didn't stop or slow down because there was nothing left for anyone to see. The little town had been deserted for many decades; wars, droughts and economic problems had driven the people to other cities in search of jobs and a better way of life.

The passenger in the car gazed thoughtfully out of the window oblivious to the dilapidated and decaying buildings they passed along the way. His thoughts were focused on another era, a time when the buildings stood tall and the streets were bustling with people, but that had been many, many years ago. In all of that time he had never returned to his childhood home, until now, and the only thing that brought him back at all was a promise that he had made to his dying mother.

The driver of the car cast a sideways glance toward the older man then coughed lightly before he spoke. "I'm sorry Papa. I know that it is not easy to accept the truth."

"I know not of such matters." Daniel Schiller replied, sighing heavily as he ran a trembling hand lovingly over a small box resting on his lap. "Perhaps it is true, but it does not change what I must do." He absently wiped at a stray tear as he recalled the story behind the small box that he held so tenderly in his hands.

_A week ago Daniel had known nothing of his brother's life but had always hoped that he had managed to have a happy and rewarding one. Alas, his hopes had been dashed when a representative from the same Scientific Institute that had taken his little brother away had suddenly appeared on his doorstep carrying the small box. Daniel had listened in horror as the man related the circumstances that had led to Ludwig's death. The police had sent his ashes to Princeton University where his brother had spent most of his life, but they had decided not to keep them so they forwarded them to the Institute where he had grown up. The Administrator there had been appalled to learn of Ludwig's deeds and refused to keep a murderer's ashes on the grounds of the Institute so he had initiated a search for Ludwig's remaining relatives, which of course, had led them to his door._

Daniel pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket then blew his nose as his thoughts returned to the present. "_It could still be a lie," _he thought defiantly as he watched the countryside pass by him in silence. The old man wanted so much for it to be a lie, but then his shoulders drooped as he accepted the ugly truth once again. The day following the man's visit, his son had gone into town to check out his story. Through the wonders of the internet, Daniel's son had found an article written about Ludwig in the Los Angeles Times and to his dismay had discovered that it was the truth. The old man shook his head sadly, even though he knew that it was true, Daniel just couldn't imagine his brother as a murderer.

"We will speak no more of this." Daniel said quietly, bringing their discussion to a close as he once again turned his gaze toward the surrounding countryside.

Fifty year old Erik Schiller smiled sadly at his father and with a heavy heart turned his gaze back to the road before him. He was relieved that his Dad was finally going to be able to close an emotional wound that had haunted him all of his life, but he was also saddened because that meant that his father would have to accept the terrible truth that was associated with it.

They passed an old deserted farm house, its walls barely standing. The barn, which had stood to the right of the house, had completely collapsed, and the weeds had almost erased all evidence that it had ever existed. Time hadn't erased the old man's memory though and a vision from the past suddenly played out before him. _Two boys were laughing and playing a game of kick ball in front of the barn. The game had ended in a playful wrestling match which had left the younger boy giggling helplessly while the older boy tickled him relentlesly. _The sound of the boy's laughter echoed through Daniel's mind and he smiled at the memory;Ludwig's laughter had always had a contagious effect on him,and he recalled that soon after he too, had fallen to the ground in a fit of laughter.

A half a mile past the farm Erik veered to the right and turned onto a barely discernable dirt road then brought the car to a stop just a few feet below an old cemetery that was located on a small hillside overlooking the old farmstead.

The passenger door opened and the elderly man slowly climbed out of the vehicle then turned and bent over to pick up the small box and a bouquet of wildflowers that his grandaughter had picked for him that morning.

Erik turned off the engine and hurried to his father's side; placing a hand under his elbow to steady him until he was sure that he wasn't going to fall. "Papa, why don't you let me do this for you?" he suggested worriedly. Erik thought that his father looked even paler than he normally did, and although he had tried to talk him out of it, he had still insisted on coming to the old cemetery today.

"No. no," his father hastily insisted. "This is something that I must do myself."

"Very well, Papa." Erik sighed. "At least let me carry the shovel for you."

The old man agreed and together they wove their way between the rows of graves and weather-worn headstones. Even though it had been many years since he had set foot in the old cemetery, and his eyes had grown dim with age, he still knew exactly where to find the grave that he was seeking. Daniel Schiller, now seventy-seven years old cradled the small box close to his chest as his son helped him kneel down next to the grave of his mother.

"Where do you want me to dig, Papa?"

"There," Daniel said, pointing to a spot in the middle of the grave. When Erik was finished he held out his hand for the box but his father just shook his head.

"I need to be alone Erik. I will call you when I am ready."

"Ok Papa, I will go and wait in the car."

"Erik, the new headstones have been ordered, yes?" Daniel squinted up at his son as he waited for him to answer.

His son knelt down and squeezed his shoulder. "Do not worry Papa. I have arranged everything just as you asked."

Daniel patted his hand softly. "You are a good son."

"Yes, Papa." Erik replied sadly and rose to his feet. "I will be close by, Papa."

Daniel watched him leave then picked up the little box and pressed it against his heart. "All these long years, brother… I have looked for you, and now you have come home. I failed you Ludwig, and I have regretted it all of my life. I should have found a way to stop Papa from sending you away but I was just sixteen and afraid of him." He had to pause to catch his breath; his heart was growing weaker now and he didn't have long to live. "I chased after the car but I was not fast enough to catch it." He hung his head, ashamed of his failure. "I almost caught it at the turn in the road but the driver saw me and made the car go faster." He pulled a handerchief from his pocket and wiped at his eyes. "Papa beat me when I returned home but I did not care anymore. I hated him for allowing those people to take you away so after Mama died I ran away."

Daniel put the small box in the hole that his son had dug and then pulled a handful of envelopes from his pocket. They were tied together with a faded green ribbon and had turned yellow with age. His hand trembled as he gently placed them on top of the box.

"Mama wrote to you but the letters were always returned to her, unopened. As she lay dying, I promised her that I would find you and bring you home and now I have kept my promise." He swallowed hard and had to clear his throat before he was able to speak again. "People say that you have done some very terrrible things, Ludwig, but the boy that I knew would never have done them. Perhaps the man that you were forced to become did those things, but I did not know you then."He gazed sadly at the little box and had to blow his nose before he could continue.

"I have done very well, little brother, and soon there will be a new stone of granite standing in place of this old one and it will bear Mama's name and yours too, Ludwig. Next to you will be another, marking my own resting place, for I will join you both very soon."

Daniel rose up on his knees and with his hands shoveled the loose dirt back into the hole, then patted it down gently. He placed the wildflowers over the spot and with tears falling down his cheeks, he whispered. "Ludwig is home Mama…Ludwig has come home."

**0000000000000**

Alan, Don and Charlie spent the night in Tommy's cabin sorting through his things and separating them into piles. Charlie was donating most of his friend's things to the "Goodwill Center" in Castle Rock but was taking all of his scientific equipment, his laptop and all of his research back to LA with him.

They left the key to the cabin with the Sheriff the next morning before they started out for Los Angeles. Hank shook their hands and assured them that Tom's things would be given to the Goodwill Center.

The Eppes men were more relaxed on the return trip, filling the hours with teasing banter and laughter. The boys teased their father relentlessly when he let it slip that he had exchanged e-mail addresses with Faye even though he insisted that it was just so that they coould exhange recipe ideas. Alan didn't mind though; the sound of his son's laughter filled his heart with overwhelming joy. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from their shoulders and now they could put the events of the past few weeks behind them.

Charlie gazed eagerly out of the passenger window as they pulled into the driveway of the Craftsman. He couldn't wait to see Amita and he had nearly driven Don and his Dad crazy with his impatient sighs. As he opened the car door it became apparent that he wasn't the only impatient Eppes in the family when the front door was flung open.

"They're here, they're here!" Amita cried loudly as she ran to greet her husband. She collided with him with such force that he was pushed back against the car, but he didn't notice. Charlie embraced her and pressed his lips against hers for a good, long kiss.

Alan looked at Don and chuckled. "They'll have to come up for air sometime. Right?"

Larry appeared on the porch, wearing an apron and carrying a bottle of barbecue sauce. "Amita, what did you…?" He stopped talking and smiled instead at the arrival of his friends. "Hey, you made it," he called out delightedly, "and just in time too."

"What do you mean?" Alan asked. "Just in time for what?"

"Dinner, of course." Larry said. "I've got the grill all fired up and ready to go. All we have to do is slap on the steaks."

Alan rubbed his hands together eagerly. "That sounds good to me. " He turned to his oldest son. "How about it, Donnie? Ready for some rib-eye?"

"I don't know, Dad. " Don looked down at the phone in his hand and muttered. "I've been trying to get in touch with Robin, but she isn't answering her cell."

"That's because she wanted to surprise you." A melodious voice spoke from behind him.

Don whirled around and pulled her into his arms. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." She said, sealing her words with a kiss.

"How about it, Donnie? " Alan called from the other side of the SUV. "Are you two going to stay for dinner?"

"Are we?" He asked softly as he kissed her once again.

"If we don't," she replied laughingly, "we won't get any of the pineapple upside down cake that I've spent all afternoon preparing."

"We can't have that now, can we?" Don said teasingly, and then with an arm wrapped around her waist they walked around the car to join the others.

They were all looking at him, waiting for his answer. His heart swelled with love as his gaze drifted over each of them and he realized how lucky they were to be together, at this time and at this moment.

Larry, who had become more like a dear eccentric uncle than just a friend stood by the door grinning at him;his Dad was smiling at him too, a hopeful expression on his face. Amita smiled warmly, and he realized that she truly had become the sister that he had never had. Don locked eyes with his brother and saw his own feelings reflected there;Schiller's assault had sent them both reeling into hell, but instead of giving up they had pulled together and fought back, and during the process they had forged an even stronger bond.

Tomorrow he would be back at work, taking on criminals and terrorists that plotted against the good people of the world and Charlie, his brother, friend and partner would stand by his side and together they would make a difference. But today…today, he was content to share in this moment.

"It looks like we're staying for dinner." Don announced with a broad smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

_Finis_

A/N: Thanks to all of you again, and in the immortal words of Red Skeleton:

_**Good night, and May God bless"**_


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